Amazing
by Sadie Elfgirl
Summary: NW Zorro-After the events of 'The Word' Alejandro reflects back on what he said to his son and regrets his cruel words. Going to reconcile with Diego, he comes to a realization.
1. I once was blind

**Hello everyone. This is the first story I have ever written for Zorro, though I have several other stories in LOTR and IPS. Recently I rediscovered the gem that is the Zorro series, and have been nearly eaten alive by multiple plot bunnies.**

**This takes place after the events of the season three finale, 'The Word', starting with Alejandro going to reconcile with his son after he called Diego a coward...and what arises from that moment.**

**0-0-0-0**

Night had fallen over the pueblo of Los Angeles. The cry of coyotes rose, lonely in the still air. The stars burned brightly over the sleeping inhabitants of the small town...and those who were not yet retired for the evening.

Lights still burned in the de la Vega _hacienda._

Diego de la Vega entered his quarters and forced himself to close the door quietly. Despite the temptation to slam the portal until it was reduced to splinters.

_My only son...is a coward. _

Diego winced at the mere memory of the afternoon. Had there ever been a day when so many things could go wrong? Felipe's witness of a murder. The attack upon the _hacienda_. The young man drawing the fire of the bandits to prevent injury to his adopted family. And Alejandro's scathing pronouncement of his opinion of his son.

Molars ground together. He had held his temper then...and he would hold it now. But it was hard. Never in the thirty odd years of his life had he wanted to strike his father so badly. The harsh words of Alejandro had wounded him more deeply than he would ever have admitted. If his father had not left in the next second, Diego doubted that his secret would still be safe. Before Mendoza and the other lancer he would have revealed himself. Flung his true nature into his father's face like a dueling glove.

Only later, in the cool darkness of Zorro's cave did he manage to calm himself. It helped that he had heard Felipe's voice. It helped that he knew his father's temper rose out of fear for the boy. It helped that when he saw Alejandro again, there was a distraught light in the elder don's eyes.

Nothing took the sting away completely. He had been forced to retire early to prevent himself from saying something he would regret later.

Once in his own chambers, Diego found himself truly exhausted. The day's events had been harrowing to say the least. Felipe's attempt to draw the fire of the bandits had frightened him half out of his wits. If he hadn't been so concerned for his ward's safety, he might still have erupted at his father's harsh, verbal assault.

Stubborn, bad-tempered, mule of a man! Diego flung his ruffled _caballero_ shirt aside with unwarranted venom. The younger de la Vega scowled at the garment as though it had done him a personal wrong. Felipe's well-being was not all he had been worried about. His father had been wounded. Shot, at their own home. Diego felt his stomach flip queasily as he looked down at his hand and remembered the warm stickiness of his father's blood. He shuddered and sank down onto his bed, knees suddenly weak. He could have lost both father and Felipe.

Diego pushed both hands through his dark hair, mussing it. He was so tired. Weary. Physically, and emotionally drained. He was tired from the days' events. Tired of hiding from his father and every other person in the blasted pueblo...except for Felipe.

Kicking off his shoes, Diego decided that he was too exhausted to fetch a nightshirt and simply crawled beneath the covers. He was asleep almost before his dark head touched the pillow.

_0-0-0-0_

In the sitting room Don Alejandro stood. Paced. Sat. Stood once more.

The elder de la Vega couldn't sit still. Words had been spoken that afternoon, in the heat of the moment. Horrible, wounding words. He had meant them at the time, in his anger and fear for Felipe. Now that the danger was passed, all he could see was the hurt in his son's eyes.

A coward. He had called his son a coward.

And he knew; he _knew_ that it wasn't true. Diego possessed courage, even if it was of a quieter, more studious bent than Alejandro was familiar with. The younger de la Vega was not a man inclined to strike with his fists or sword, but he used words and influence to great effect. Had he not been jailed by the Alcalde several times for things he had said?

So why on God's green earth did Alejandro feel the need to strike at his boy with vicious, verbal barbs?

The don sat down slowly once more and sighed. His good hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, in a half-hearted attempt to control the headache that would soon arise. He had been furious at the attempt on Felipe's life. The boy was like a second son to him. With his rage was a gut-wrenching fear. Felipe had deliberately left the safety of the _hacienda_. Alejandro could see that the boy carried no weapon away with him. He was alone. Vulnerable. Rarely in his life had the elder de la Vega felt more helpless. He was wounded, and Diego was right...he wouldn't have been able to help Felipe by going after the brigands.

Unfortunately, within his fear hid his temper. It was an ugly thing, and it rose always at the worst moment. His beautiful wife had warned him that it would get him into trouble. How right she was! He had needed a target to lash out at...and there was Diego.

Diego with his completely logical assertion that Alejandro would not be able to help Felipe when he had lost so much blood.

Diego with his gentle habits and bookish nature.

Diego was the target that Alejandro had chosen, and his sharp words struck a bulls-eye in his son's heart. He _saw_ the pain before he strode angrily away. The shock.

The rage.

Yes...

The sharp slam of a door echoed in Alejandro's memory. Diego must have crashed it into the doorjamb as he and sergeant Mendoza left. The elder don grudgingly admitted that he was a little lightheaded at the time, so he didn't recall all that happened perfectly. Alejandro frowned to himself. Now that he thought on it, Diego had a temper too. Always had. When he was a boy, it had been his Achilles' Heel. He was forever involved in fist fights with the local bullies. Alejandro had chided him again and again, but he had to admit that he had been so proud that his son would not allow injustice to pass without trying to strike a blow...even when his opponent was roughly three times his size. The don smiled softly. On that occasion, his boy had worn a black eye for over a week.

When had the hot-tempered boy been replaced by the sedentary man?

Alejandro grunted in disgust at himself. It didn't matter. His son was his son. Whoever he had become now, that was who Diego was. He might be disappointed in his offspring, but that did not give him the right to flay his child with cruel words.

The don stood abruptly. He would go now. There was no sense in waiting. Diego was probably still awake reading anyway. Alejandro's quick, impatient stride carried him through the _hacienda_ to the door of his son's chambers. His knock was perfunctory; the barest rap of his knuckles against the wood as he passed through the doorway. To his surprise, Diego was not in his sitting room, a book open on his lap.

Alejandro frowned. Now that he was of a mind to apologize, he didn't like being thwarted in the attempt. Where was his son? Surely he was not in bed already. Rounding the corner, the older man entered Diego's bedchamber.

He was.

The don sighed as he looked on his son's slumbering form. His irritation with the boy was rising once more. So late to rise in the morning, and now here he was already asleep! Alejandro grunted in disgust. He had raised a sluggard. One would think that the young man had been involved in a heavy battle instead of sitting at home! What had he done to be so tired?

Catching himself, Alejandro took a deep breath. He had come here to _apologize_. Not be riled further. Besides which, (he felt guilt rise quickly, swamping his ire) his son had done nothing wrong. Nothing that deserved cruel words. Diego was a dutiful son, and he was quick to pull his father from the trouble the hot-tempered man was so apt at falling into. Don Alejandro felt his gaze soften as his eyes traveled over his son's face.

"Oh, Diego..." The deep breath left his body in a heartfelt sigh.

Surprising himself, Alejandro did not turn and leave at once. Instead, he pulled a chair from the sitting room into Diego's bedchamber and settled himself comfortably. Now that he was here, he found he didn't want to leave his boy at once. The guilt and remorse he felt over his unkind words was deep. He did not always understand Diego, but he loved him with all the fierceness of his fiery nature. The younger de la Vega stirred briefly as the chair scraped against the hard floor, but quickly slipped back into deep sleep.

"I must confuse you sometimes, my son," Alejandro murmured. "I push you to act, and yet..."

Silence filled the room as the former soldier struggled for the right words. He wanted his son to act as he had when he was a child. A boy who took after Alejandro enough that Dona de la Vega despaired of her son reaching maturity with all his limbs attached to his body. Diego had been daring. Bold. Rash. Constantly in trouble because of his high spirits and his inability to sit by and watch the world spin around him.

And Alejandro had been proud of his son. So proud, and yet so fearful. Such boys grew into men that acquired increasing danger along with their increasing height. He had sent Diego to Madrid with the hopes that the boy would be steadied, and that he would learn the necessary skills to protect himself and others. That was the reason he had arranged for Sir Edward to instruct his son in fencing.

What had happened? Diego had left for Spain...and returned changed.

No longer interested in defending the world with his fists...apparently unable to master the sword...

Alejandro wanted to reawaken the youth that had been there before. The fiery, headstrong young man constantly in trouble. There were fleeting moments; instances where Alejandro thought that he could see the same spirit glittering in Diego's eyes. When he had ridden after the pirates who had kidnapped Victoria and Felipe. When Victoria herself was threatened by bandits breaking free of the jail. He rejoiced to see it, but at the same time a cold fear lurked in his mind. The same fear that had gripped him watching Felipe ride out. He wanted his son safe. As much as he wished Diego to act, his offspring's shortcomings often assured him that it would not be a good idea.

The don chuckled bitterly at himself. He was a fool. "I am sorry, Diego," he said softly. "I push you with one hand and hold you back with the other." Alejandro ran his left hand through his graying hair, troubled. "Forgive me, my son. I only want what is best..." he stopped himself with another sigh. Words meant nothing spoken to an sleeping man. In an uncharacteristic gesture of tenderness, the older man reached out and stroked dark hair back from Diego's forehead.

He looked so relaxed. The lines that were forming on his handsome face were smoothed by slumber. Alejandro frowned as he observed his son in the most unguarded of moments. Why should he seem so much more relaxed now than any other time? What tension in his scholarly offspring's easy life should carve such deep worry wrinkles into his forehead?

Diego stirred again. His right arm had worked itself free of the rich bed linens, and Alejandro found himself staring. Something was clicking in the back of his mind...

The arm resting on top of the gold and scarlet coverlet was muscular, the palm calloused. Not the arm of a scholar. A large, X-shaped scar was carved into the forearm. Carved deliberately. Nothing would make a mark like that, save for knife wielded by a man. Where had Diego gotten it?

Slowly, Alejandro rose to his feet. A gentle tug, and the cover slid from his son a little more. Diego sighed deeply in his sleep and rolled onto his side, allowing his father a view of his back.

Scars.

There were scars on his son.

His knees suddenly felt very weak. The elder de la Vega sat back with a bump, trying to process what his eyes were telling him. He had not served as a soldier without knowing what battle wounds looked like.

There...the mark of a grazing bullet.

And that...a sharp blade.

There were many. So many. This was not the skin that should have adorned an idle man, prone to the study of books and nothing else. This was what Alejandro imagined Zorro's back to look like. The scars of his many battles adorning him as the badges of courage that they were.

So what were they doing on Diego?

Slowly, the don worked his right arm from from its sling, wincing as he did so. He stared at his own palm; at the callouses earned from hours of practicing with a sword. They were the same as his son.

Memories stirred in his brain. Sir Edmund arriving in the pueblo and asserting that he and Diego could easily have fought off four or five lancers. Alejandro had laughed, because it was well known that the younger de la Vega was no swordsman. Very well known. Diego had, in fact, taken care to make it well known...

Oh dear God. His son.

Sergeant Mendoza described a harrowing adventure, wherein Zorro, apparently bitten by a snake was taking refuge in a barn. The barn had been ordered burned by the Alcalde, and the masked man had escaped. If Zorro had indeed been bitten by a poisonous snake, he would have attempted to purge the poison from his body. He would have cut an X over the wound; sucked out the venom. It would have left a scar. Much like the one he had just discovered on Diego's arm.

Oh dear God. It couldn't be...

Diego was never present when Zorro appeared.

No...

Their _height_. Heavens above, how could he have missed something so obvious? Who else towered over every other man in the pueblo other than his son? Their _eyes!_ Zorro had _blue_ eyes. A rarity amongst those who lived in Los Angeles.

Alejandro couldn't breath. The books, the poetry...the seeming indolence...it was so simple. So _brilliant_. No one would look at Diego de la Vega and suppose that this studious, gentle man was anything other than what he appeared at first glance. No one.

Not even, it would seem, his own father.

_I share your grief__. More than you will ever know, señor._ The words bounced around his head with bruising intensity. At the time, he had hardly heard what Zorro had to say. Mercedes lay bloody and still in his arms; he had attention only for her. Only later did he wonder at the man's obvious sincerity. Now, it was so clear.

Through the rush of bewildering amazement came a sudden stab of pride. His son was Zorro. _His_ son. Diego. The boy hadn't disappeared after all. His son was courageous. A heroic champion for the people who could not defend themselves. _His son! _Alejandro found a smile pulling back the corners of his mouth, his eyes lighting up...he actually reached out to shake Diego awake. His hand closed over his son's shoulder.

Diego flinched, even in the depths of slumber.

The older don released his son so quickly, the flesh might have been searing hot. His brow furrowed as he leaned forward. Upon closer inspection, the shoulder he had just squeezed was decorated with a very prettily colored bruise. The former soldier swallowed hard. His joy was fading, rapidly being edged out by the cold fear of the discovery he had made. His son was Zorro. _His _son. The boy that was constantly endangering himself hadn't disappeared. His son was courageous and selfless. A trait that he could not hide even in his mild-mannered persona. He was constantly putting himself into harms way to protect those who could not defend themselves. _His son!_

In danger, all the time. As the scars and bruises would attest.

Not only in danger of physical blows as Zorro, but always taking the verbal abuse that followed Diego de la Vega!

"Oh, _Diego_..." Alejandro suddenly buried his face in his hands, overcome. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, unwilling to wake the man that lay in what he now knew to be well-earned respite. He had to have told _someone_. One thing was very clear to the older man, that had hit him again and again whenever his thoughts turned to Zorro, someone had to be helping the Fox. The way he appeared whenever there was trouble, his skill at disappearing...someone had to be there behind the scenes. Someone who wouldn't...or couldn't...talk. Felipe. Of course. The only person to know Zorro's secret was the boy who would never be questioned because it was well known that he could not speak.

More memories rushed through the don's mind and these made him flinch with renewed guilt. How many times had he put his son down? How many times had he made cutting comments, or belittled Diego's skill in areas he assumed the man knew nothing about. All the while, it was a ruse. A persona that hid his talents so effectively...

Alejandro swallowed hard. The mask hid Diego's talents so effectively that not even those who were supposed to be closest to him would ever guess what manner of man they were dealing with.

"God help me," the elder de la Vega whispered at his son's back. "I don't know you at all."

**That's all for now! Hope you all enjoy; the next chapter should be up quite shortly. :) Oh, and if anyone reading this is at all familiar with any of my other stories, you know that I have absolutely NO shame when it comes to requesting reviews. I will beg. On my knees. I love reviews SO much!**


	2. But Now I See

**Hello all! Here I am, posting the next installment of my tale. :) Thank you very very much for the reviews! I appreciated them greatly, and they were quite encouraging since this is my first Zorro story. **

**I left off with Alejandro kind of stunned, so let's jump right back into the fic! Enjoy!**

**0-0-0-0**

Alejandro's mind was frozen; stunned with the knowledge of his revelation. He had to concentrate; focus.

His son was Zorro...

_Focus,_ he told himself sternly. The question at hand, and one that needed to be answered very shortly, was whether or not he told Diego that he knew Zorro's identity.

Part of him snorted indelicately. Of course he would tell Diego! Tell? Oh no. He would _confront_ his son. He would _demand_ to know why he had been kept in the dark!

_Wait,_ counseled the smaller, quieter voice of reason. _There must be an explanation for Diego's actions._

Alejandro's temper was far too accustomed to drowning reason out. Yes there must be! And by Heaven he would know it! He would know _why_ his son did not feel that he could trust his own father!

_Trust is not the issue, _reason persisted doggedly.

"Ha!" Alejandro snorted out loud, causing Diego to stir. Trust was _precisely_ the issue!

_Diego does trust you. He has never lied to you..._

The elder de la Vega snorted again, but more quietly, not wishing to wake his son. "I am looking at a man who had hidden himself from me for _years_." And yet...and yet he grudgingly admitted that reason had a point. In all other matters, Alejandro had always found his heir to be scrupulously honest. His integrity was unquestioned by every man in the pueblo. Even the Alcalde, (suspicious man that he was) did not doubt the veracity of Diego de la Vega.

Alejandro stood abruptly. He would go back to his study and think on this. It was an exhausting ordeal to argue with oneself, and he did not wish to have the decision forced by waking Diego. One thing he knew; if he were to speak to his son right now, he would never be able to hold his countenance. The shock was too strong. Emotions were too high. The don could not even begin to say which was strongest. Amazement, pride, joy, grief...

Anger.

Dark brows drew together in a scowl as the former soldier marched from his son's quarters. Yes, he was angry. Angry to have been fooled for so long. Grieved...and...and _furious! _Years! His son had kept this from him for years! And _he, _Don Alejandro de la Vega, had been completely blind.

Alejandro stopped in his tracks and forced himself to take several deep breaths. "Control yourself, Alejandro," he muttered. "Tonight is _not_ the night." Resuming his quick stride, the _caballero _continued on to his study, where he proceeded to pace, fume and argue with himself until the sun rose.

0-0-0-0

Morning's soft, rosy glow had barely spread its' thin line across the horizon when Diego awoke. Despite the early hour, he felt...refreshed. Probably because of the unnaturally premature time he had retired the previous evening. Would that he could acquire so much sleep _every_ night. Unfortunately, Zorro's antics almost always kept him from his bed.

Stretching idly, Diego pushed the covers to one side and slid long legs over the side of the bed. He rose, and immediately tripped over a chair that someone had moved from his sitting room. The _caballero_ yelped as pain shot through stubbed toes. Only his quick reflexes saved him from tumbling _with_ the chair across the floor in a truly undignified manner.

"What on earth...?" Dark eyebrows drew together as he scowled at the offending piece of furniture. He might have been exhausted last night, but he hadn't been insensible. That chair had _not_ been there when he had drifted off to sleep. Perhaps Felipe had moved it? But why? The young man very rarely came into Diego's quarters, and he had (to the best of Diego's knowledge) never moved anything before.

A wry smile tipped his mouth even as he sat back down on his bed and rubbed smarting toes. If only his young charge would treat Zorro's sword with the same respect as Don Diego's possessions.

Rising again, and with more care, Diego pushed the chair back into his sitting room. He would address the problems of moving furniture at a later date. Right now, he had to prepare himself for breakfast with his father.

Any hint of a smile was wiped from his handsome face. The sting of his father's words had not faded with a night's respite. Diego pushed a hand through his hair, absently stirring it into a confusing bird's nest of dark strands. He, at least, was back in control of his temper. The _caballero_ chuckled mirthlessly to himself as he crossed to his dresser and began pulling out clothes. The de la Vega temper was nothing to sneeze at, and despite Alejandro's belief that his son was weak-willed and cowardly, Diego had inherited every last drop of the genetic code that wired his father's frequent outbursts and rash decisions. Sometimes, he wished for nothing more than to let loose the reigns he held so tightly. Explode, as his father often did.

_The secret, is to make your opponent angry_.

His own words returned to him as he buttoned a ruffled shirt and tucked it into blue trousers. An angry man lost control. And once he was no longer master of himself, he was no longer in charge of any situation. Diego sighed and thrust long arms into the sleeves of his jacket, leaving his shirt open at the throat. He could not afford to release the tight control he held on his temper. Not if Zorro was going to survive.

The tall man stepped in front of his mirror and surveyed his reflection critically. A moment's glance told him that he needed to find a comb, but that there were no bruises visible that would require an explanation. Good. He was not in a mood for self-defacement this morning.

Once he had tamed his rebellious follicles, Diego quietly stepped out into the hall. The _hacienda_ was filled with the stillness of the early morning, though he believed that he could detect the aroma of good food being prepared. The cook was awake then. Perhaps he would visit the kitchen for coffee.

A soft footfall behind him brought his attention around.

Felipe approached with a tray holding coffee and two mugs. The slender young man was frowning, his brown eyes dark with worry.

Diego felt his own brow furrow in response. "Felipe...what's troubling you?"

Balancing the tray on one hand, Felipe pointed toward Don Alejandro's study, then scowled ferociously.

"My father is awake...and not in a good mood?" Lovely. Probably focusing once more on all the ways his son could not please him. Diego winced and rebuked himself for the ungracious thought.

Felipe shook his head earnestly, waving a palm to get Diego's attention. Once the elder man had focused on him, the youth pointed at the study once again, mimed sleeping, and shook his head hard enough that he almost upset the tray of coffee.

"My father did not go to bed?" Dark eyebrows rose on Diego's forehead in surprise. "He has been up all night?"

A nod. Felipe cast an apprehensive glance at the door to the study. With a pleading look, the young man suddenly held the tray out to Diego.

"You wish me to take it in instead?"

The grin that teased the corners of Felipe's lips could have charmed the birds from the trees. With a sigh, the _caballero_ took the coffee from his ward's arms. "At least get the door for me."

Only for Felipe's sake would he do this. As Alejandro was no doubt upset because of his son, it did not seem right to place Felipe in the path of the old man's temper. That being said, he really did not wish to face his father this early in the morning when his own wounds were so raw.

As the boy reached for the study door, Diego drew in a deep breath. _Remember, an angry man loses control. _He would take whatever his father had to say with a smile on his face. As though it did not matter.

Even when it meant everything.

0-0-0-0

Alejandro heard the door open behind him. Felipe must have arrived with the coffee. After he had some, he would wake Diego and apologize for his words last night. He would _not _reveal that he knew Zorro's identity. Oh no. He would wait for Diego to tell him on his own. He would wait until the guilt of keeping something from his father _drove_ Diego to confess!

"_Buenos días,_ Father."

The gentle voice of his son shocked the elder don so badly that he almost swore out loud. Alejandro spun on his heel to see Diego setting a tray of coffee down. Silence stretched awkwardly between the two de la Vegas. Despite his best intentions, Alejandro could feel his quick temper rising. A scowl was beginning to knot his dark brows together. All he could think of as he looked into his son's eyes was how he had been _lied_ to for so long...even the way Diego appeared now was a sham! With his charming half-smile and genteel mannerisms. It was all a facade. The mask of a chorus member in a Greek play!

Freshly furious, Alejandro caught his son's eyes and opened his mouth to lambast the younger man with his realization. "Diego! I..."

It was the blue eyes that stopped him. Just as the chorus member of a Greek play peered from behind the painted plaster, so his son's gaze met his own. Alejandro slowly closed his mouth into a thin, tight line. A chorus member owned only their eyes. Their expressions were predetermined by the play that they sang for. Were they wearing the laughing smile of a comedy...or were they forced to don the weeping eyes of tragedy? Which story was Zorro's?

He was still angry. Still enraged. He was fairly certain his scowl was carving new furrows into his face. Perhaps even more so because for an instant he could look past the mask and really _see_ the player.

But if he was not in control of his expression, he was at least in control of his tongue. "I have something I wish to say to you, my son," he snapped, the words coming out harsh and sharp in the early morning air.

"What is it, Father?" Diego's tone was soft, his face holding an expression of only mild interest.

Except for the eyes. There was a spark there. A wariness. A flash of temper combined with a preparation for the verbal assault he was sure was coming.

"I apologize," Alejandro snarled. "I had no right to call you a coward."

For an instant, Diego's face went blank with surprise. His dark brows rose almost to his hairline with shock. "I...Father, that really isn't necessary. I know that you were concerned for Felipe. As was I." The mask softened ever so slightly. Alejandro could glimpse his _son. _Unfortunately, it only made him angrier because he knew that very soon Diego would retreat behind the elaborate glamour he had created once again. Already, he was turning to go, his hand on the study door.

"Diego!" His father's voice turned Diego's head back over his shoulder. The elder de la Vega crossed his arms tightly over his chest, legs planted apart. "Now. Do _you_ have something you wish to say to _me_?" His tone was just borderline offensive. Anyone listening and only catching the cadence and not the words themselves could easily have assumed that Alejandro was challenging his son to a duel.

And he was! He _was_ challenging his son! He was daring him to tell the truth! To confide his secret!

"Yes," Diego replied firmly. "Yes, Father, I do." To Alejandro's surprise, the younger don turned his face away. He stood with his back to his father, facing the door. "I wanted to tell you that I appreciate your apology." His voice was quiet. Firm. Sincere. "More than you will ever know."

The door opened and closed, and Diego was gone.

Alejandro slowly sank down into a chair and put his head in his hands. How could a man be so proud of his son...and so frustrated...all at the same time?

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**There you go! Next chapter should be up the day after tomorrow. Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssse review. I looooooooove reviews. :)**


	3. Through Many Dangers

**Greeting, greetings, everyone. Here I am, posting on time! Barely, but on time nevertheless. :) Thanks to everyone for the great reviews! I love them and treasure them.**

**This next chapter kind of moves into the start of season 4, and definitely has spoilers for the first episode. So if you haven't watched it yet, go do so immediately. Then come back and keep reading. :)**

**Thanks again! On with the fic!**

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Time passed slowly for Alejandro. The frustration of his knowledge...the yearning to see his son act openly and without need to conceal his true nature was close to driving him mad. His temperament was not made for a patient waiting game. And so he acted as he always had when made to wait. Thus, Diego spent much of his time away from the _hacienda_ and the servants kept their distance as much as was humanly possible. All of them were bewildered at the conduct of the _caballero_. Don Alejandro was well noted for being short tempered and prone to rash actions when riled, but it was unlike him to maintain a state of high dudgeon. His outbursts were generally like the desert rains. Fierce, but quick to blow out their wrath. Now it appeared that a monsoon had been brewing and was not about to leave. Three weeks at least he had marched about his lands and _hacienda _with a look on his face to frighten away all but the very brave. He needed a distraction, that much was obvious. And it arrived one morning in the surprising form of the king's tax collector; Don Emilio.

Alejandro heard much of Don Emilio before meeting him. The men of Los Angeles were impressed by his wit and conversation. The women spoke of him in whispers and giggles, and more than one of them blushed when he bent over their hand and pressed a genteel kiss to their knuckles.

It was Diego who actually introduced Don Emilio, however. In the quest to avoid his father's bad temper as much as possible, the younger de la Vega had been spending a great deal of time at the tavern, where he had become acquainted with the king's tax collector. An invitation to dinner was quickly extended and accepted, and soon Alejandro was enjoying the clever stories that spilled from Don Emilio's tongue.

It wasn't long before Alejandro invited the don to stay at the _hacienda_ as his guest.

Tensions lifted with Emilio's arrival. Alejandro focused on being a good host and pushed thoughts of his son's secret life aside. For Diego's part, he actually came forward more than was his wont; discussing a large variety of topics with an ease that both impressed and infuriated his father. Having another face in the household helped the elder de la Vega tighten the reins on his temper, but like a skittish colt, it could only be held for so long...

0-0-0-0

"Are you sure you won't stay a while longer, Don Emilio?" Diego pressed politely as the two de la Vega's escorted their guest to the stable.

"If only I could," the tax collector sighed as he adjusted the saddlebags over his shoulder.

"Oh, your work here is done," Alejandro stated, hoping to persuade the charming man. Things between Diego and himself were so much smoother when there was another present to make him hold his tongue and temper. Besides which, he was genuinely fond of Emilio. "Come, why not? We'll enjoy ourselves. The time to relax is now!"

"I don't think that King Ferdinand would appreciate it if his colonial tax collector turned his trip into a vacation!" Don Emilio chuckled heartily at his own words and shook his head.

"Probably not," Diego agreed with some regret as the three men approached the de la Vega stables. "From what we hear, he needs all the money he can get before the alliance conference in Verona next year."

The king's tax collector stopped in his tracks and looked at the younger _caballero_ in amazement. "Music, literature, _and_ politics too, Diego." A friendly slap to Diego's arm emphasized his words. Emilio grinned at the elder don with approval. "You've raised quite the renaissance man here, Alejandro."

"Yes." Emilio had _no _idea. "Here's something else I've raised, Emilio." Alejandro motioned to the powerful stallion behind him. With a smile, Alejandro saw the look of admiration cross Emilio's bearded face. "Finest race horse in all the colonies." If there _was_ a note of pride in his voice, he trusted that God would forgive him for the sin, as it was also the truth. The de la Vega's raised only the best horses, but this one...he was a prince.

"What a handsome fellow!" The tax collector quickly stepped past Alejandro to stroke the stallion's elegant nose. Fortunately, the colonies' finest race horse was reasonably sweet-natured. Had Emilio tried that with Alejandro's Dulcinea, it was likely she would have left some very deep teeth marks in the fine material of his coat.

"In honor of our new friendship..." Alejandro paused to share a quick smile with his son. He had told Diego of his decision the other night, and his son agreed that the tax collector would almost undoubtedly appreciate the gesture. "I'm going to name him Emilio."

Don Emilio's charming smile creased his face as he stepped forward and warmly embraced Alejandro. Breaking apart, the elder de la Vega could see that the king's tax collector regretted his leave-taking more than ever.

"In all my years serving the Spanish crown, I have never known such hospitality," Don Emilio admitted. He nodded genteelly to the ranch hand who approached him with his horse. Swinging himself onto the animal, the man looked down at the de la Vega's; amiableness and charm twinkling in bright blue eyes. "You've made my stay in Los Angeles...truly memorable."

Alejandro could not help but smile at the man. Emilio was just one of those people that everyone liked. Dark eyes noted the empty landscape surrounding the de la Vega _hacienda, _and alarm rose swiftly. Surely the tax collector could not mean to ride with all that money alone...? "By the way," he said quickly, before Emilio could depart. "I don't see an escort. You're not riding to Monterey without one, are you?" If he was planning such foolishness, he could think again. Alejandro would escort him _personally. _It was the least he could do for a friend.

"Of course not," Emilio soothed him quickly. "I've got two men waiting to ride North with me just outside the pueblo."

"That's excellent." Alejandro beamed at his guest. He really was genuinely fond of the man. "Listen, when you get back to Monterey, please, give everyone there our _best_ regards."

"I will _amigos._" The tax collector raised his hand in farewell. "Until next year then. _Adios._"

The two de la Vegas stood briefly in mutual amity as they watched their guest canter away. Alejandro sighed softly to himself. He was going to miss Don Emilio for many reasons. The least of which not being that he served as a buffer between the younger and elder de la Vega.

"Well," Diego said brightly as the two men turned back to the _hacienda_. "Don Emilio is certainly more impressive than the clerks the king usually sends to collect his taxes."

A vision of the man who had come last year drifted into Alejandro's head, and he nearly snorted. The former tax collector looked and acted as though he slept in embalming fluid. The memory was particularly unflattering when held in comparison to Don Emilio. "Indeed he is," Alejandro agreed with his son, smiling. "Cultured man. Charming." The memory of living in a place where meeting such men was not an uncommon event made Alejandro sigh just a little. "I almost feel homesick for Madrid."

0-0-0-0

The thief! The con artist! The unmitigated _gall_ of the man! Alejandro stormed across his property, his dark eyebrows drawn into a fierce V over flashing eyes. He was truly upset. Not so much for himself, but for the people of Los Angeles. They were poor farmers. The _cabelleros_ could afford to pay taxes twice, with some pinching and tightening of their belts. The farmers? Never. If the Alcalde did not catch _el Conejo..._

Alejandro leaned against the wall of his stables, suddenly tired. One hand rubbed at the bridge of his nose. At a younger age, he might have put his fist into the wooden planks next to him. Common sense (and unfortunately, previous experience) told him that this would leave him as frustrated as ever, with only bloody knuckles to show for his outburst.

With a grimace, the don slashed his hand through the air; pushing all thoughts of _el Conejo_ to the back of his mind. Alejandro straightened and strode with quick and impatient steps to the stall of his pride and joy. He would have to christen the animal anew, that much was for certain. But some time spent currying the stallion's powerful flanks would help him deliberate...and it would help him keep his head...

Or it would if the horse were there.

Alejandro froze, his foot still in mid air as he prepared to step across the threshold of his stallion's stall.

The horse that was present, calmly munching hay, was _not_ his animal. It was, in fact, the attractive, if somewhat docile _mare_ that Don Emilio had ridden out only this morning.

It took a few seconds for the truth to work its way through the shock in Alejandro's mind, but when it did...

A few moments later, the don was cradling his hand, cursing violently as he removed splinters from his knuckles. If he had been upset before, now he was _enraged_. One thing was for certain, the Alcalde would never catch up to _el Conejo_ riding the aged nags of the garrison. Alejandro snorted his violent and derogatory opinion of the military's equine property. The only beasts that would have a prayer of

hunting down horseflesh raised and trained by the de la Vegas would be more of the same.

His own Dulcinea was fleet as the tempestuous North wind, with a temperament to match. The former soldier shook his hand once more in a futile attempt to be rid of the stinging pain before striding to Dulcinea's stall.

The pale mare looked up with a snort as her master approached. Upon seeing Alejandro her fierceness faded and she condescended to bump her long head against his chest in a manner that could possibly be construed as affectionate once the bruises faded. The elderly don chuckled, despite his anger. She was a beautiful animal, his Dulcinea. Long, slender, straight legs. Sleek, powerful, graceful...

Evil, Diego called her.

It was true, for some. Dulcinea was no common animal. She was a princess of noble blood and would have everyone know it. Only Alejandro or Diego could ride her without repercussions, and even the stable hands preferred one of the de la Vegas groom her. The mare had a temper that was easily raised, and _not _easily ameliorated. Like any good woman, she could hold a grudge with unswerving dedication. Alejandro knew that he was the single person she gave anything that could be considered affection. In many ways, this horse was much like himself, he realized with rueful amusement. His temper was also high, his ire easily earned. As for holding a grudge...

He was in the midst of holding one.

Alejandro ground his teeth together as he pulled Dulcinea's saddle down from the wall. Did he not have a reason to maintain his anger? His son had _lied_ to his face for years!

Fingers quickly tugged buckles into place with practiced ease. All the while he pretended incompetence, the man was actually the most skilled swordsman...rider...Alejandro suddenly paused in his actions. Yes...his son was very skilled. A chuckle rose in the _caballero's_ throat. Here he was, preparing to dash off on his own. He was, of course, going to leave Diego behind because his son could not track, and all the while he was gone he would stew and fume over the discovery that his son was Zorro. Zorro who _could_ track. Undoubtedly, the fox would be setting out after the rabbit shortly. Alejandro slowly rubbed his chin, his thoughts swirling.

With a few quick jerks, the elder de la Vega finished saddling his mare. Diego would not escape so easily.

0-0-0-0

Alejandro threw the door of his _hacienda_ back on its hinges as he strode into the hall, calling for his son. Rounding the corner of the sitting room he caught sight of Diego and Felipe. They were standing oddly, side by side as though posing for a portrait. Or blocking something from his sight. Making a mental note to examine the fireplace at a later date, Alejandro strode towards his son.

"Ah, Diego, there you are." Half his life was spent calling for his offspring. At least now he knew _why_ his son so often was not to be found. The former soldier took a second to observe Diego's expression of mild interest, the dark eyebrows raised ever so slightly. Obviously, the younger de la Vega was prepared to listen politely to whatever his father had to rage about, say something non-combative (and infuriating), and was probably counting the seconds until Alejandro stormed away so that he could transform into the man of action that he truly was. An ill-suppressed smirk kindled fire in Don Alejandro's dark eyes as he planted his feet apart, fists on hips. He had a surprise in store for Diego. "Saddle up your horse, son. We're going after him."

And it _was_ a surprise. Not entirely a pleasant one. Alejandro could almost see Diego's nimble mind spinning its cogs, trying to dodge this unexpected bullet.

A patronizing smile creased the younger de la Vega's face. "Now, Father," Diego stepped forwards, hands raised in a conciliatory manner. "I'm sure your letter to the Governor will solve a _lot_ of problems..."

"A letter to the governor will not get _my_ Emilio back!" Alejandro interrupted, tapping himself on the chest to emphasize the point.

Another surprise. Diego's brows drew together in consternation "What?"

"Yes," Alejandro gritted between clenched teeth. "The stallion is _gone._ Alphonso...Alonzo...El Conejo _stole_ him!" Oh what he wouldn't give for five minutes alone with that man...

"The garrison horses can't give your stallion much of a chase," For once, his son's voice was serious. Deeper. His thoughts were obviously far away with the thief. Calculating how much time had elapsed since El Conejo had departed and the stallion's fleetness of foot.

"Exactly," the elder don agreed emphatically. "Our Andalusians are the only ones who stand a prayer of a chance!" He saw the change the moment his words registered with his son. Diego drew his disguise about him once more, the look of semi interest replacing keen intelligence. It was enough to make him want to tear out his graying hair in large clumps. Alejandro glared at his offspring. Diego wasn't going to get away with it this time. "Come on," he demanded, "let's go; we can't lose a moment!"

"But, Father..."

"Don't 'but father' me," Alejandro interrupted once more. He couldn't stand it. If Diego would not willingly reveal himself to his father, than by all that was holy, Alejandro would _make_ him. "The horse was stolen," he began, listing the events on gloved fingers. "It's our property." The old man's voice flattened, his words turning into a growl. "I want it _back_. Let's go."

With that foolish, disarming smile, Diego capitulated. One hand gestured for Alejandro to lead the way. He would follow, as the dutiful son that he was.

Not trusting himself to speak further, the elder de la Vega spun on his heel and marched. Dulcinea was waiting for him at the door, her reins held by one of the ranch hands. Another man was already preparing Diego's Esperanza.

The roan mare was obviously pleased to see her master as he approached, though her affection was rewarded with only the most lukewarm of caresses. Diego's attention was somewhere far away. With another horse perhaps? A black stallion noted for his intelligence and speed?

With a heave, Alejandro pulled himself onto his saddle and gathered the reins. A pang smote him as he swiftly turned Dulcinea's nose toward the tracks leading away from the stables. He could _see_ Diego's blue eyes raking the ground, checking for clues. Yet through thick and thin, he kept his face blank. As they traveled further away from the _hacienda_ Alejandro shot glances at his son; fascinated by Diego's perseverance in keeping his secret. Only his eyes held any hint of what was going on behind the bland, pleasant expression he habitually wore. Why had he never seen it before? Because (he was ashamed to admit) he had never looked closely enough.

Now that he bothered to pay attention to the tall man riding beside him, he was gleaning snippets of reality that peeked through the persona Diego wore.

Large hands handled reins with an ease that was almost second nature. Without removing his eyes from the trail that unfolded before them, Diego controlled Esperanza skillfully and completely. As sweet as the roan colored mare was, she was still of the de la Vega stock. Spirit and power were in her bloodlines. Alejandro shook his head in wonder. Diego's secret, he realized, was that the younger man never made anything look difficult, even when it was.

"Father?"

The older don was brought back to reality abruptly at the sound of his son's voice. Diego had brought Esperanza to a halt, his eyebrows drawn together in concern as he observed his father with careful scrutiny. "Father, what's wrong?"

Alejandro realized with a jolt that he had been staring. Not at the tracks, but at his son. "Nothing! Why would anything be wrong?" His tone sounded harsh even to his own ears. Ignoring the exasperated expression creeping into the tightened corners of Diego's mouth, the former soldier quickly dug his knees into Dulcinea's sides, urging her past her stable mate. He needed to be more careful. If he did not become more cautious, his son would realize that something was wrong.

_Of course, the three week long sulk might have already tipped him off..._ Alejandro snorted and brushed the voice of reason to the side with practiced ease.

Focusing his attention once more upon the tracks, the elder de la Vega decided that he would remain in front of his progeny for now, the better to concentrate.

The mashed tracks of the garrison lancer soon joined the trail of _El Conejo; _making tracking all the more difficult. Already testy, Alejandro could feel his brows knitting together into an ever deepening scowl. The lancers could not perform the simplest task without making a total and complete hash of it. Every tracking novice knew that trampling your quarry's marks was frowned upon, just in case the need arose to retrace your steps! Miserable, incompetent, useless...

Dulcinea pulled away from Esperanza as Alejandro's sharp eyes observed the ground before him. A smile finally creased his face. "Look at here, Diego." The older man gestured to the marks upon the ground. To an experienced tracker, the tale of passing creatures was an open book. Alejandro swelled a little with pride as he grinned. _El Conejo_ thought that he was clever, but obviously he had only thought himself to be dealing with the buffoons of the garrison. "He laid one set of tracks to fool us then he doubled back and went deeper up into the ravine." Alejandro nodded sagely to himself. Like a book. He could read tracks like a book. "He covered his real tracks with a branch."

"Looks to me as though both trails are false." The flat certainty of Diego's tone struck a raw nerve.

Alejandro forced himself to chuckle patronizingly. "I'm sorry, Diego but what you know about tracking actually would not fit a thimble." He smiled sweetly at his son, his dark eyes snapping with challenge. _Prove to me that I am wrong, my son. Show me! Reveal yourself as who and what you truly are._ "Diego, Please, stay with me son!" The don gathered his mount's reins and turned her head to pursue the trail that appeared to be hastily covered. "Dulcinea!" He pretended not to hear the sigh of frustration behind him. If Diego wished to be taken seriously then he needed to _act_ seriously! Otherwise he could endure the patronizing tone and condescending treatment.

What was truly salt in the wound, Alejandro realized several minutes later, was that his son was correct. The trail _was_ false. Blast!

_So, how far does one follow a false trail before he admits that he is wrong?_ Was it his imagination, or did reason take a distinctly snide tone with him? Perhaps he shouldn't ignore the little voice quite so often and it would be a little more polite. Swallowing one's pride was a bitter pill, but Alejandro opened his mouth to admit that they should turn back when his sharp ears caught muffled wails emerging from the hillside. "Listen..."

He could see that his son was already aware of the sound. His introspective look had returned, and he was pulling Esperanza up. Swinging one long leg behind him, Diego quickly dismounted and threw the reins over a nearby bush. Alejandro followed suit, though he knew that Dulcinea would _not_ appreciate being left behind.

Swiftly ascending the rocky terrain, the two de la Vega's followed the sound that quickly resolved itself into calls for help. From the lancers. "Up there," Alejandro strode up the rough incline, Diego following. "By the...cave." Or what had used to be a cave. Now it was a solid looking wall of rock. The lancers had been lured in, and then trapped by _el Conejo_.

To give his son credit, he did _not_ say 'I told you so'.

"Don't worry," Alejandro called, his tone reassuring. "We'll get you out!" His dark eyes surveyed the pile of rocks dispassionately and admitted to himself that it would take a long time. During which, the _caballero's_ stallion would carry _el Conejo_ far, far away. The don sighed in aggravation, but what could he do? The lancers could be injured...he could not very well ride away and leave them. Despite temptation to the contrary. Stepping forward, he bent and dug gloved hands under a large, rough boulder expecting Diego to grasp the other side. He remained in his awkward, half crouched position for a second before looking back over his shoulder.

Diego remained stationary, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Come on, Diego," Alejandro called, surprised that his son had not moved. "Lend a hand!" Surely his son did not intend to leave them entombed.

"I may not know enough about tracking to fill a thimble, Father," Diego's tone was...pouting? Alejandro's eyebrows rose slightly. His son was pouting!

"...but I do know a thing or two about leverage." And without another word, he strode off!

Alejandro straightened up, jaw slightly agape. "Diego..." The dark head moved into a stand of brush and trees; turning back and forth, obviously looking for something. When there were people in trouble! "Not one of your foolish experiments! Not now!" Alejandro jabbed gloved fingers towards the boulder. "Please!"

Diego did not even turn around. The dark head disappeared for a moment, ducking down beneath Alejandro's eyesight. Straightening, the younger de la Vega held his prize aloft. A stout branch. Fallen from some tree, but thick and strong. Long legs quickly carried Diego back towards the cave's former entrance.

"As Archimedes said," the younger man quoted as he quickly ascended the rocky terrain. "Give me a lever long enough, and I'll move the world."

Fascinated despite himself, Alejandro stepped back and watched his son work.

Diego placed one end of the branch behind a specific boulder and began to slowly pull back against the wood, testing the strength. Satisfied that his lever would hold, the younger don began to exert himself. A creaking, groaning sound filled the air, and Alejandro feared that the branch would give before the rocks would move.

Muscles bunched in Diego's shoulders. A thin trickle of dust drifted into the air.

_Hold...hooooooold..._

The younger de la Vega set his jaw and pushed harder.

With a crash, rocks tumbled free, dust billowed, and through the haze Alejandro could see the pale and sweaty faces of the garrison lancers. Diego had saved them. Single-handedly. "Well done, Diego!" The sentiment of honest admiration burst from his lips with the accompanying swell of fierce pride. _His_ son had saved them! "Well done!"

The Alcalde was one of the first to emerge from the cave, white hair coated with dust. "_El Conejo,_" he choked through the cloud of grit he seemed to have inhaled. "He trapped us!" The lancers crawled from the cave after their commander with cries of relief and gratitude. Dirt streaked and sweaty, they were a sorry sight. Not that they were ever _very_ impressive, but on this occasion the poor lancers were particularly bedraggled. Stepping forward, Alejandro stretched out his hands to help them over the rocky ground, noticing as he did so that more than one was limping pathetically.

De Soto was still standing straight. His jacket was unbuttoned; white trousers stained with dirt, but he was uninjured. Blue eyes raked the countryside and he groaned. "Oh no...the horses! He's scattered them!"

"Your men are in no condition to make the hike back to town," Diego called as he helped lower a lancer to a seat.

"You're right, Diego." Alejandro pretended not to notice the look of the surprise that flickered briefly over his son's face. _It's not the first time I've ever said that...is it?_ "Alcalde," he turned to De Soto. "He and I will ride back to town and send some wagons out for you." It was a shame that _el Conejo _would escape, but they could not abandon the injured men...

"Ah...but Father," Diego quickly interjected in what Alejandro often referred to with a snort as his 'wheedling' tone. "If _el Conejo _returns there should be at least one of us here to give chase on horseback." Again, that simple, disarming smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. "I'll go for help."

How many times had he been fooled by that smile? By the seeming eagerness to avoid danger? In reality, Diego had been charging headlong into the thick of the fray. Before Alejandro could protest, or stop him Diego was already moving away.

"Right again, Diego," Alejandro called to his son's back. A thread of fear twisted his stomach as he watched the younger man depart. He knew what he son actually intended...this was his excuse to disappear. He would probably show up much later claiming a horrible sense of direction had kept him moving in circles.

In reality, the Fox was going out to hunt. Alejandro wouldn't be surprised if Felipe had been following them all along with Zorro's effects. Throat suddenly dry, the elder don watched his son throw a long leg over Esperanza's side. He was heading into danger. "If _el Conejo _dares show his face I'll be here!" _Be careful. _"Ready to pursue a fresh trail!" _Be careful, my son. _

Diego's eyes met his for a bare second before Esperanza's hooves kicked up the dust and carried him away. Alejandro turned from the lancer's briefly; making a show of scanning their surroundings. In truth, for a moment he did not trust himself to keep his worry from his face. This was the first time he knew that Zorro would ride since he had made his discovery, over three weeks ago. Seeing the cruel way their quarry had left the lancers to their fate filled him with foreboding. It wasn't Zorro who was riding out to right all wrongs anymore. It was Diego.

The elder de la Vega planted gloved hands on his hips and forced himself to smile. Whatever happened, he could not allow himself to betray his son's secret. That being said, it nearly killed him to watch Diego ride away without roaring orders to come back safely.

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**There you go! Next chapter should be up day after tomorrow, but might possibly take a bit longer. I'll try to get it posted on time. See y'all soon!**


	4. Toils and Snares

**Fondest greetings to you all...and I am so sorry. I know that this is quite late. No good excuses, unfortunately. Lots of work...and a bout with a horrible cold...but that's all I got. Pathetic, I know. Sorry! Anyhoo, the chapter is a little longer to make up for the lateness. **

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, particularly those who are reviewing through the 'guest' feature, as it prevents me from replying personally. I still love your feedback!**

**Enough of my chatter...on with the story! Enjoy!**

**0-0-0-0**

Felipe's lips twitched in a smile as he saw Diego approach. Esperanza cantered around the stand of brush the young man had taken cover behind and allowed her master to reign her in. Dismounting, the tall _caballero_ handed her reins to Felipe.

"Ride back to the garrison," Diego instructed, his words quick and concise. "Tell them to send a couple of wagons for the Alcalde and his men." A smile flickered to life, lighting fire behind the blue eyes. Diego delivered a comradely slap to Felipe's arm. "Zorro, the Fox, is going to hunt _el_ _Conejo._ The Rabbit."

Felipe could not help but grin back. When foxes hunted rabbits, the rabbits very rarely won. Especially when _this _particular fox hunted. He could almost feel sorry for _el Conejo_. Obviously the man had no idea what he was getting himself into when he visited the pueblo de Los Angeles.

Mounting his pinto, the young man glanced back once to see his mentor already digging into Tornado's saddle bag's and pulling Zorro's costume out. Felipe laid a slap to Esperanza's rump and dug his heels into his own beast. Though nothing compared to Tornado, Esperanza was clever enough for a horse. She knew the way home and would have no trouble reaching it on her own. One of the ranch hands would find her patiently waiting to be allowed into the de la Vega corral, and remove her gear. Probably shaking their head and wondering all the while how Don Diego could not manage to keep his seat upon the sweetest mare God had seen fit to grace the earth with.

The pinto jumped forwards at Felipe's silent urging and soon the two were headed back towards the pueblo to fetch wagons for the lancers. A grimace of disgust twisted the young man's lip. He did not care for the garrison lancers. Undoubtedly they had been injured by the very one they hunted, and now it was up to the de la Vegas to help them.

His frown deepened with his thoughts. Diego had raised him to care for others; help them. Indeed, he saw daily the sacrifices his mentor made for the pueblo. It did, however, chafe him to give aid to the very men that would hang the _caballero_ if they knew that it was _his _blue eyes flashing at them behind the mask of Zorro.

A great many things bothered the young man about the situation he and Diego lived in daily. Felipe knew that Diego had to keep his studious persona in play to avert suspicion, but he saw the toll it was taking. It pained Felipe to hear Victoria and Alejandro praise Zorro and deride Diego in one breath. Their words bothered Diego too. He pretended that he was untouched, but Felipe was _not_ fooled. Something had happened between Don Alejandro and Diego recently. After Felipe had witnessed the murder of the Monterey coach driver. The relationship between the two de la Vegas had gone from patronizingly congenial to volatile and explosive. Over the past few weeks Don Alejandro in particular had been...moody...to say the very least.

Lost in thought, Felipe did not see the rope flung out before him before it was too late. Rough hemp caught the young man squarely across the shoulders and he felt himself jolted from his saddle; the reins torn from his hand.

Air left his lungs in a harsh explosive breath as he struck the hard earth. Felipe saw stars flash brightly for a second and gasped, trying to recover...

Too late. His vision was filled with the weave of a net. Before he could react, he felt himself being lifted; dragged into the air like a small animal in a hunter's snare. He was forced into a curled position, the net's small proportions not allowing room for much maneuvering. Brown eyes flickered over the ropes of his prison, searching for a way out...searching for a weak point...the young man swallowed hard; fighting down the panic that rose in the back of his throat. He was suspended from the branches of a tree, far above the ground.

And someone was chuckling softly. Meanly. Pleased by his pain and distress.

Felipe shifted his weight awkwardly, making the net spin so that he might face his antagonist, though he already had a good idea of who it might be...

"Well, well, well. The de la Vega servant boy." Don Emilio's voice rose to his ears before he could see the man. There was a nasty edge to it that had been missing during the man's stay at the _hacienda_. A sadistic pleasure he indulged at the expense of others.

The net twisted enough to allow Felipe a glimpse of _el Conejo_. It was unnerving to observe the same man that had eaten and laughed with Don Alejandro and Diego. Sitting on Don Alejandro's prize stallion, he looked up at his victim; blue eyes glinting cheerfully. "_You_ tried to hunt _me_!" Don Emilio cried, tapping himself on the chest and shaking his head in disbelief.

Felipe writhed and pulled at the net strands. His struggles only made the Rabbit chuckle harder.

"See, those who pursue me...become my prey." He was still smiling, but his blue eyes were cold. Cruel. "And once I have them trapped..." Don Emilio shrugged and waved a hand negligently in the air. "They die."

He almost sounded regretful, but Felipe could see a smile pulling back the corners of his lips; making teeth flash white against his reddish beard. Without another word, the Rabbit turned Alejandro's stallion and rode away; looking back only to revel in his victim's helplessness.

Brown eyes stared after him until he was sure that Don Emilio would not be returning, then flickered over the woven hemp that trapped him. There had to be a way to free himself. There had to be. The young man swallowed hard. He couldn't allow himself to believe that there wasn't. Couldn't allow himself to think of what would happen if he could not get loose...if no one happened to find him...

Still slightly winded from his fall, Felipe felt his breath starting to come in shorter, harsher gasps. The young man squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breath as deeply as he could. Hyperventilating would _not_ help him escape.

Perhaps he could untwist some of the knots, or loose the rope that held him aloft. Felipe glanced upwards. The branch that held his weight was a ways above his head. Felipe struggled, pushing his arm through the fibers of the net and reaching...stretching...

Too far away. Don Emilio had not been so careless as to allow for an easy escape.

Felipe felt a wave of sick rage sweep through him. Rage, and helplessness. He was well and truly trapped, without even being able to call for help. This far from the pueblo it was unlikely that anyone would happen to simply stumble across him either.

The young man ground his teeth together in a ferocious grimace. He would not give up. _El Conejo_ might have thought him likely to curl into a little ball and weep, but he would not give up. There had to be some way to free himself. He would find it.

Working his hands through the net Felipe seized the rope that was holding his weight aloft. Perhaps he could pull himself within reach of the branch. It was an incredibly awkward proposition; with his legs curled up and arms high above his head; the net bunching around his shoulders, prohibiting movement. One inch. Two.

Teeth bared in effort, Felipe winced at the burn in his shoulders, but shifted hand over hand a little further up the rope. Diego had shown him how to climb a rope a long time ago, but this was different. He could not use his legs to brace himself or push. All he had was the strength of his arms.

Another hand length.

Sweat broke out on his forehead, running into his eyes. He was almost there...the branch was almost within reach...but how could he grasp it without letting go of the rope?

He tried. Releasing his hold with one hand, he made a snatch for the rough bark of the tree's limb.

His left hand could not hold all his weight on its own. The rope tore through his fingers and Felipe fell back, the net bouncing with a sickening swing. Fire radiated from his palm. The young man glanced at it and winced. Rough hemp had removed most of his skin very efficiently. His palm was raw and bleeding.

Felipe swallowed hard. Well and truly trapped. Ah well. Nothing for it but to keep trying.

0-0-0-0

How long he twisted in his mesh prison, Felipe did not know. Long enough for the sun to start sinking towards the horizon. Long enough for both hands to become bloody in his attempts to free himself.

The young man sank back against the yielding strands; exhausted. His legs were cramping with the tight enclosure and he longed to be able to stretch them out. His sash had been torn into bandages for his hands, and he could see blood spotting through the thin material. Felipe had tried to use the material as makeshift gloves, but the smooth, well-woven sash slipped easily. He could not get enough purchase.

Perhaps he was approaching the problem from the wrong angle. Brown eyes surveyed the tough net critically. The rope was strong...but perhaps he could chew through it? He might lose a couple teeth in the process, but on the other hand he might _live_. All of his teeth wouldn't make much of a difference in a corpse's head.

A soft sound brought his head up suddenly. Ears straining, the young man hardly dared to breath for fear that he was wrong...but no. Growing steadily louder were the heavy footfalls of a galloping horse. Someone was coming! A tangle of emotion knotted in Felipe's chest. Hope...another rider was near! Fear...perhaps it was _el Conejo_, returning to toy with his victim. Frustration...even if the rider were not the villain who had imprisoned him, how was he to attract their attention? Not for the first time in his life, Felipe cursed his inability to speak.

The horse's feet slowed to a walk out of sight. Felipe could still hear the unknown rider, but he could not see. The copse of trees where his net hung was in a small dell, and the horseman was currently plodding about over the rise of the hill.

It wasn't _el Conejo_. Don Emilio knew where Felipe was. If he had returned with the intent of tormenting his young victim, he would not have slowed his mount. Frustration rose anew and Felipe tore at the net's rough fibers, heedless of the blood that soaked through his makeshift bandages. There was someone else there! Someone who could help!

The horse whinnied and Felipe froze, his face suddenly lighting up with relief. He knew that sound. Puckering his lips, the young man whistled as loudly as he could. He had not mastered the ear splitting call Zorro used to hail Tornado, but he had been practicing.

0-0-0-0

Tornado noticed first. His head came up; black ears alert with interest.

Diego noted the tension in his mount immediately. "What is it, boy?" Cocking his head, the masked man listened intently.

There. Drifting on the breeze, the sound of someone whistling. Not the cheerful, happy tune of a passing farmer; a long, shrill, note.

The call of a young man who could not ask for help in any other way.

Zorro dug in his heels and Tornado responded eagerly. The pair leapt forwards, cresting a small hill and descending quickly into the dell. Zorro saw his charge immediately, hanging from the tree like some strange fruit. Reining Tornado back, he came to a halt almost directly under the trap. "Felipe!"

Bright brown eyes peered down at him through the net's weave. Felipe's expressive face broke into a smile.

Relief crashed through the masked hero. The young man was alright. He was alive. He would soon be safe. The terror he had experienced when Don Emilio mentioned 'the boy' he had trapped slowly faded. His wrath, however, did not. Diego drew a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He had never killed anyone in anger, and he did not intend to start now. Oh...but it was tempting. He knew where _el Conejo_ was; knew that the man was helpless...

With an effort, the masked man forced himself to concentrate on the problem at hand. How was he to get Felipe down without breaking the young man's neck? The trap had pulled him quite high into the air. If he cut the rope bearing Felipe's weight the young man would fall, true enough, but there was no way he would be able to land correctly with his limbs bound so closely by the net.

However, they might...

Zorro pulled his dagger and lifted it upwards, hilt first. Felipe squirmed until he could reach down through the bottom of the net and seize the weapon.

Though he did not comment on it at the moment, Zorro's blue eyes did not miss the bloodstained cloth wrapped around his friend's lean, brown hand. Fire rose in his gaze, and his mouth tightened into a grim line. Swiftly, he dismounted and took Tornado's reins, holding him steadily beneath Felipe. The young man was already sawing through the ropes of his prison. With care, he emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon, gripped the net tightly and lowered himself onto Tornado's saddle.

Zorro's face had gone from stern and concerned to rigidly controlled as he watched his ward escape _el Conejo's_ trap. He had seen Felipe wince as he gripped the net. Seen the blood that soaked through makeshift bandages wrapped around both hands.

Zorro's hands tightened in fists around Tornado's reins until the leather gloves creaked. He was enraged. Thank God the villain was not standing before him. If he were to look upon the pleasant, bearded face of Don Emilio again, he doubted he would be able to control himself. Even now, he was contemplating committing a mortal sin. He wished fervently to murder the man who had left Felipe to die.

Felipe swung himself down from Tornado's back and lunged forward, his arms enfolding Diego in a tight embrace. Surprised out of his dark musings, the Zorro released Tornado's reins and stumbled back a step, almost tripping.

The young man looked up quickly. One hand briefly lifted to his eye and then pointed at Diego before he buried his face into the bandit's shoulder once more. Relief flowed from his slender frame with almost tangible force.

"Yes," Diego said quietly as he wrapped strong arms around his ward's shoulders. "I'm glad to see you too." _I'm so glad that you're safe, Felipe. I'm so glad that I was able to find you. _Emotion knotted his throat together before he could say anything else, choking off words as he squeezed Felipe tightly.

0-0-0-0

Felipe pulled back after a few moments, slightly embarrassed at the unguarded way he had thrown himself at his mentor. He grinned upwards, a little shyly, and was pleased to see Diego smiling under the mask he wore. A gloved hand squeezed the young man's shoulder in a comradely way. "Are you certain that you are all right?"

Concern was evident in Diego's voice. Blue eyes flicked to the bandages wrapped around Felipe's hands.

Felipe nodded quickly. He was fine. The injuries would heal, he was sure. He crooked two fingers into rabbit ears and held up his hands questioningly, eyebrows raising in a plea for information.

"_El Conejo_?" Diego's blue eyes narrowed; glittering menacingly through his mask even as his mouth curled into a smile. "He's receiving a rather unique viewing of the arroyo a few miles to the West." White teeth flashed in a rather feral expression of grim pleasure. "Compliments of Tornado."

Felipe grinned widely in return.

Zorro cast a quick glance towards the sinking sun, eyes thoughtful. Felipe was familiar enough with his mentor to guess his thoughts. Diego was trying to decide what they should do next. Go back to the garrison for the wagons? Retrieve _el Conejo_ and take him with them?

The masked man nodded abruptly, apparently having come to a decision. "Right. Let's get you home."

Brown eyes widened in surprise. That was not one of the choices Felipe had anticipated. His fingers stroked his cheeks like a beard, eyes questioning.

"What about the Alcalde and his men?" Zorro smiled. "None of them were injured as much as you, _amigo_. And my father is with them. If they become weary with waiting for me to 'find' my way back to the pueblo, I'm sure that he will be able to ride for help."

Felipe rolled his eyes at Diego's words. Undoubtedly there would be many snide comments concerning the older man's deplorable sense of direction. He did not like for people to denigrate his surrogate father, but at the same time, it was always amusing to watch. Diego could say the most outrageous things with a straight face, particularly concerning his alter ego.

Mounting Tornado, Zorro reached a gloved hand down and helped the young man climb up in front of him. With a gentle push of his knees, the masked man directed his horse towards home.

0-0-0-0

It was twilight by the time Diego made his way into the pueblo. The sun had barely finished sinking behind the hills, but the evening's cooler colors were already rushing in to replace fiery daylight. Riding Esperanza (having ignored the despairing look the stable hand had given him) the _caballero_ made his way towards the garrison with the intent of sending out wagons for the Alcalde. Try as he might, he could not keep a small smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth when he thought of how De Soto must have fretted and fumed throughout the long day.

Nearing the pueblo, Diego reined Esperanza back gently. There were wagons approaching Los Angeles. Wagons with moaning lancers as their cargo. Through the dim light, the younger de la Vega could see Dulcinea's pale coat as she pranced proudly beside the lumbering carts.

He could also see his father. Straight-backed, head held high, the old man was a soldier still. As he had expected, Alejandro had most likely come for the wagons himself.

Diego swiftly turned Esperanza about. He would come at the garrison from another direction. Although he no longer needed to acquire aid for the lancers, he did still have a message to deliver from Zorro. Fortunately, the wagons were moving slowly.

Sliding from Esperanza's back, Diego moved into the pueblo stealthily. He would have preferred to be clothed as Zorro, but if he was to send aid to the lancers he had to do so as Don Diego. How was he to guess that it was no longer necessary?

The streets were mostly deserted at this time, the people of Los Angeles going home, or making their way to the tavern for an evening of enjoyment. This both helped and hindered him. With no one about there were no called greetings or inquiries after his father, but there was also no crowd cover. If he were found...

Diego pushed those thoughts aside as he reached the Alcalde's office. Lock picks were out in a second, and the door was open nearly as fast. Slipping inside, the tall man quickly drew a dagger from his waistband and thrust it into De Soto's desk. Around the handle there was a letter from Zorro detailing exactly where _el Conejo_ was to be found.

It was the work of a moment, and then he was gone. Slipping away into the shadows once more.

0-0-0-0

Alejandro pulled Dulcinea up in front of the garrison gates, watching the moaning lancers dispassionately. He supposed that some empathy was in order, but he couldn't bother himself enough to muster it. He was worried about his son.

Diego had not returned. After the Alcalde's ignominious descent, Alejandro had come to fetch the wagons himself. Was Zorro still out hunting the Rabbit? Had he been hurt?

"_Gracias_, Don Alejandro, for all your help," Sergeant Mendoza smiled up at the don with gratitude, his friendly face still streaked with dirt. A flicker of concern made his brows knit together. "I hope Don Diego made it back to your _hacienda_."

Alejandro's heart twisted, but he forced himself to smile. "I'm sure he will be fine." _I pray he will be safe_. "He always is." _Always. In all the years that he has ridden out as Zorro. While he was lying to me._

"Don Alejandro? Is something wrong?"

The elder de la Vega swiftly readjusted his features, wiping away the scowl that had formed. "No, Sergeant. Nothing is wrong. I am just...frustrated."

To his surprise, Mendoza's face fell a little. The sergeant stepped forward, closer to Dulcinea's side. Looking up, Mendoza met Alejandro's eyes and held them steadily. "Don Diego is a good man," the portly soldier said quietly. "He may not be a Zorro, but he is a good man."

"Mendoza!" De Soto's bellow made the sergeant scamper to the Alcalde's side and assist him down from the wagon, leaving the elderly don to stare after him, jaw slightly agape. Had he just been given a talking to by Jaime Mendoza? Was there no end to the pleasures of this day? Alejandro gently nudged Dulcinea's sides and tugged at her reins, turning about. Fooled like an idiot by the smooth talking of _el Conejo..._Finest stallion bred in years stolen...left with the Alcalde and his men for _hours, _and enduring De Soto's condescending remarks about Diego, all the while worried out of his mind...and now rebuked, albeit gently, by Sergeant Jaime Mendoza. The beloved buffoon of Los Angeles.

No, this day would not make his list of 'most enjoyable'. Alejandro grimaced as he turned his mare's head towards home. Where he would sit and wait for his son to show himself. Because he would. Because he was _safe_. Alejandro could not allow himself to believe otherwise.

Dulcinea was just starting to pick up her feet when the Alcalde's bellow shattered the peace of the plaza. Startled, Alejandro jerked the reins back around, almost causing his temperamental mount to rear. As it was, the look she gave him as she rolled her eye back was far from congenial.

De Soto appeared in the doorway of his office, leaning upon Sergeant Mendoza and howling orders to the able-bodied men. Orders to retrieve _el Conejo. _Alejandro caught sight of the note De Soto clutched in his hand and heard the name 'Zorro'.

Relief flooded through him. If Zorro had been here...

With a grin, the don touched his heels to Dulcinea's flanks. She responded with a leap, snorting in bad temper as she decided to race the wind towards home. For once, Alejandro did not even try to rein her in. He was almost as eager to reach the _hacienda _as she.

0-0-0-0

By the time he had seen Dulcinea safely into her stall and rubbed her down, night had truly fallen. Alejandro strode towards the _hacienda _with quick, impatient steps.

The door crashed back on it's hinges as he entered his home. "Diego!" He had seen Esperanza already stabled. One of the stable hands had shook his head in despair at his _patron_, and explained that the pretty, roan mare had come back without her master.

Ordinarily, this would have caused Alejandro to groan with frustration and dismay. His son had been thrown by Esperanza? _Again_?

Now he knew the real reason the mare so often returned riderless. On the positive side, however, the elderly don was thrilled to discover his prize stallion had also returned to his stall.

Where was Diego? Had he already gone to bed? Turning the corner into the sitting room, Alejandro came upon Felipe. The boy was settled into a chair before the fireplace, reading; dark head bowed over the book in concentration.

His hands...

The elder de la Vega approached the young man and touched his shoulder gently, trying not to startle him. Felipe looked up, brown eyes wide. A smile quickly flickered across his mobile face. Eagerly, he turned two fingers into rabbit ears and made a snatching motion, eyebrows raised in question.

Alejandro had never been as good as Diego at deciphering Felipe's hand motions, especially when he was distracted by the bandages winding around both of the boy's palms. "I'm sorry Felipe, what was that?"

The young man repeated his motions, setting his book down on his lap as he did so.

"Did we catch _el Conejo_?" Alejandro felt a flicker of temper stirring once more, growing. Felipe knew full well that Zorro had caught the Rabbit and left him for the lancers to discover. Yet here he was, continuing the deception...the don forced himself to smile. "Zorro did." Watching Felipe's face carefully, he saw the quick, secretive smile that swiftly hid itself in an expression of interest. The smile of someone who is part of a confidence.

"_I,_" Alejandro continued, "was stuck with the lancers throughout most of the day, waiting for Diego. He went to get help, and then he _never_ returned. His horse apparently came back without him though! He's probably lost. Of all the ridiculous..." Alejandro threw his hands into the air in frustration. "Lost! _Lost_! How does he lose his way home?"

Felipe shook his head, pointing towards Diego's chambers. The boy's face was suddenly very still, brown eyes troubled. Obviously he did not like Alejandro putting Diego down.

Alejandro planted gloved hands on hips, dark eyes boring into Felipe's. "You had to go and find him, didn't you, Felipe?"

The young man broke eye contact and stared down at his lap, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the spine of his book.

Alejandro scowled. He did not like being lied to. He wanted the truth! Reaching out, the don gently tilted Felipe's chin up; making sure that his ward could read his lips. "What happened to your hands?"

He felt the boy flinch. A slight, instinctive shudder Something had happened. Something Felipe did not want him to know about. Had _el Conejo_ had something to do with this? The former soldier felt his jaw tighten with anger. Someone had harmed the young man sitting before him. He instinctively felt that this had something to do with the villain he had pursued, even as he was sure that he would never be told the truth of the day's events.

"Felipe..." Alejandro's voice growled with frustration.

"Felipe," A much more tempered voice interrupted; causing Alejandro to turn abruptly.

Diego stood in the doorway, a small bowl of medicinal smelling mixture cupped in his palm. "I have that ointment ready for your hands."

Alejandro did not miss his ward's breath of relief, but kept his eyes trained on his son, scrutinizing Diego intently. No injuries that he could see...no stiffness in his movements suggesting bruising...

The younger de la Vega returned the almost hostile stare readily. Features blank save for that simple, disarming smile.

He had raised a true thespian, Alejandro thought darkly. Who else but an actor born would have the patience to play this innocent faced fool day in and day out for...dear God, how many years had it been now? He wondered how Diego would explain Felipe's injuries. Wondered if his son even considered the things he said to be lies anymore, or just lines of the drama he was playing out.

The tall man stepped forwards and, drawing a chair up, seated himself next to Felipe. For all appearances, he seemed to be ignoring his father's presence as he began unwinding the bandages around the boy's hands.

"What happened, Diego?" Alejandro crossed his arms over his chest, dark eyes boring into the back of his son's bowed head. "You didn't return." _I was __**worried**_.

Diego looked up briefly, and Alejandro ground his teeth together at the sight of that self-deprecating smile.

"I'm terribly sorry, father...I'm afraid that I was thrown..."

"From Esperanza?" Alejandro asked drily.

Only the barest twitch of muscle in Diego's cheek acknowledged his father's derogatory tone. The tall man shrugged shamefacedly and turned blue eyes back to his task as he continued. "...and got lost. Felipe," he nodded to the youth, "found Esperanza, but when he went to catch her reins she was spooked by a snake. He lost a fair amount of skin..."

"And because Felipe found Esperanza he knew you were lost and came to find you," Alejandro interrupted, unwilling to listen to any more deceit. The elder don glared at his son with hot, frustrated eyes.

Diego looked up again, obviously surprised.

The former soldier did not care. He was tired of being lied to. Would that he had never realized the truth of his son's identity! Remembering the disdain of the Alcalde as they waited for Diego's return made Alejandro even more furious...because he had been able to say nothing! Nothing to countermand De Soto's verbal attacks because anything he said; anything that hinted at Diego's true talents and skill could jeopardize his son's secret. He wanted his son to be respected for his abilities...and he was overwhelmingly tired of facing the bumbling fool that Diego projected.

"I'm tired," Alejandro snapped, breaking the awkwardness of the silence. "I'm going to bed."

He sounded, much to his chagrin, like a petulant child. With a brusque slash of his hand he turned to leave.

Perhaps it was because of the new, closer attention he paid Diego, but as he started to stride away, he heard something he knew that he would not have noticed before.

A soft, sad sigh. Of regret? Of despair?

The don's conscience smote him sharply. _Why_ must his temper always turn him into such an ogre? He _was_ angry at being lied to...but only a few hours ago he had been sick with worry for his son.

"Diego," he called over his shoulder as he stopped in the doorway. He could not turn. Could not face that _smile_.

"Father?"

Oh Lord, he could tell Diego was wearing it just by the tone of his voice! Polite...languid...just barely interested enough to avoid giving offense..._Calm. Calm, Alejandro. Remember, you were worried._

Alejandro drew a deep breath and forced himself to speak in a tone other than the growl of an angry bear. "I'm glad you made it back safely, son."

The elder de la Vega strode away quickly, leaving Diego and Felipe to stare at one another in bemusement at his chaotic moods.

0-0-0-0

Diego found himself bemused by his father's mood throughout the next day. Although the relentless hurricane of bad temper appeared to have lifted, there were moments when the brown eyes flashed, and harsh words flew through the air like arrows. He seemed, however, to be attempting to resume a cordial manner.

With a shrug, the tall man ran a hand over Esperanza's neck, patting the mare affectionately. Blue eyes glanced back towards the tavern doors, where Alejandro was in the middle of charming Señorita Escualante. The elder don had even joined Diego for lunch; something he had not done for weeks.

The younger de la Vega could not help but let the corner of his mouth curl as he watched his father converse with Victoria. He really could be quite the pleasing gentleman when he chose to be. Victoria adored him, and Alejandro treated her with all the protective loving care of a father. Some day...perhaps when he could remove Zorro's mask for good...perhaps Alejandro would _be_ her father. Another smile. Some day. In the meantime, he was happy for his father's return to a state of at least semi-good nature. He had missed the older man's company.

"Ready to go, Diego?" Alejandro swung himself up onto Dulcinea and waved to Victoria as he waited for his son to do the same.

The tall _caballero_ mounted quickly and settled himself into his saddle. Glancing up, he was surprised to see a grin of truly wicked enjoyment crease his father's face. Alejandro looked back and met his son's eyes gesturing for Diego to follow his line of sight.

The blue eyes traveled across the plaza to see De Soto hobbling across the plaza in a very ungainly fashion, followed closely by Sergeant Mendoza. The Alcalde looked very much the worse for wear from yesterday's adventure. His normally impeccable attire was replaced with an untucked shirt and unbuttoned vest. The intricately knotted cravat that was his pride and joy was missing altogether and with every wincing step Ignacio took, Alejandro's grin widened just a little more.

Diego felt his own mouth twitching in response. Surely it was unholy to take such glee in anyone's discomfort? How had the Alcalde become injured anyway? When he had left the group yesterday the man had been unharmed. Judging by his father's expression, the elder de la Vega had _something_ to do with it.

Alejandro touched his heels to Dulcinea's flanks, trotting her across the plaza to intercept De Soto's belabored path. He was still smiling, but at least he had assembled his features into an expression that could be termed 'pleasant', rather than 'maliciously amused'.

Grinning himself, Diego followed. 'Unholy', such amusement might be, but he would gladly take whatever penance the priest ordered.

0-0-0-0

"Splendid day, isn't it Alcalde?" Alejandro called out, pulling Dulcinea up and smiling sweetly at the discomposed leader of Los Angeles. "Conejo Alonzo is in your jail, the pueblo's tax money has been properly paid to Señor Salia and my stallion is safely in the de la Vega corral." His brown eyes twinkled a little too gleefully as De Soto scowled up at him. Pouring insult on injury, Alejandro leaned on his saddle horn and added: "All thanks to Zorro." _All thanks to __**my**_ _son. The man you termed supremely useless. Who was useless yesterday, oh great and wonderful Alcalde? The Fox who caught the Rabbit, or the man who could not keep his seat upon a horse?_

"Zorro." The Alcalde spat with a growl. "Where was he when we were stranded in that cave?"

It took everything in Alejandro _not_ to glance at his son.

"Where was he when I was seriously injured by that...that _beast_ that you so generously call a horse?" De Soto glared at Dulcinea as Alejandro stroked her mane.

"He was probably following _el_ _Conejo,_" Sergeant Mendoza interjected helpfully, oblivious to the look the Alcalde shot him. A look which, to Alejandro, spoke most eloquently of death and daggers.

"Speaking of which," De Soto suddenly turned his baleful eye to Diego. "What happened to you?" A sneer of disdain curled the Alcalde's lip beneath his pale goatee. "My ninety-eight year old _grandmother_ could have ridden for help faster than that!"

Alejandro did look at his son then, knowing what was coming. Just as he suspected, Diego was smiling _that_ smile. "Well, my sense of direction isn't what it should be," the younger de la Vega's bland smile and innocent shrug would have fooled anyone. "I got lost."

"Oh Diego..." Alejandro shook his head in disbelief. "What am I gonna do with you?" The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. He thought he saw a small stiffening of Diego's spine, but otherwise his son remained the consummate actor.

"Luckily, Felipe found me," Diego grinned down at the Alcalde and suddenly Alejandro recognized a wicked glint in his son's eye, hiding behind the meek persona. He was _enjoying_ the Alcalde's discomfort. Almost as much as Alejandro himself.

"Oh by the way Alcalde," the elder de la Vega said, as though he had just remembered something important. Stroking Dulcinea's mane again, the don felt his face creasing into a smile of unholy glee. "Anytime you want to ride another one of my horses, you just let me know, sir."

Nodding cordially, (and delighting openly in the glare he was receiving from the Alcalde) Alejandro nudged Dulcinea forwards after Esperanza and his son.

"What was all that about?" Diego called, glancing back over his shoulder at his father.

"De Soto tried to ride Dulcinea," the elder don answered, still grinning evilly. Oh, it was so sweet to remember the Alcalde's face falling from the back of the pale mare. Particularly after he had insulted Diego, _and_ Dulcinea, _and_ boasted of graduating with equestrian honors. Alejandro shook his head at his son's broad back. He had been unable to defend Diego with words, but Dulcinea had extracted vengeance for them both.

Putting his heels into her flanks, the _caballero_ urged Dulcinea into a gallop, passing Esperanza. "He calls you evil and you defend him," he muttered to his steed, glancing back over his shoulder briefly before turning eyes forward once more. "Women. I will never understand you."

The thudding of horse hooves behind him told him that Esperanza had also been pushed into lengthening her stride. "You allowed him onto Dulcinea? Without warning?" Diego's tone was aghast, reproachful. "Father, your horse is as vile tempered as..." an abrupt silence made Alejandro absolutely certain that his son intended to say something else, but stopped his words at the last moment. "As the Alcalde himself!"

_Well covered, my son. _"I did not _allow_ him! He demanded!" Diego pulled into place beside him and Alejandro cast him a glance out of the corner of his eye. There was a smile twitching at the corners of Diego's mouth. A smile that longed to break free. The carefree, taunting, flaunting smile of Zorro. "And I _did_ warn him." _By insinuating that anyone who could not ride her was a poor horseman. That counts as a warning, right?_

Diego shot him a look of disbelief and leaned forward over Esperanza's neck. The roan pulled forward slightly.

_A mistake, Diego._ Seeing her stablemate pull ahead, Dulcinea snorted in indignation. The mare could not _stand_ to run behind another. It was as though someone had set a burning brand to her hindquarters. Dulcinea stretched out her neck, whickered evilly, and immediately doubled her pace. Within seconds she had left Esperanza far behind, but even that did not stop her. By the time the horse reached the de la Vega corral her flanks were wet with sweat, but she pranced cheerfully into her stable, unbeaten.

Alejandro was grinning himself. The speed and strength of his mount was always thrilling. He was still smiling as he strode into the _hacienda_. Still smiling until he passed a small mirror hanging upon the wall on the way to his chambers.

The don froze and whipped around. He thought for an instant...

Peering intently into the mirror, Alejandro frowned. He could have sworn he saw Zorro's face, grinning daringly at him from the silver glass. Just a fleeting impression, as he was passing. The former soldier took a couple steps back and gasped. From where he stood, a shadow fell across his eyes and nose. Alejandro glanced back over his shoulder to make sure that Diego was not approaching. Looking back at the mirror, he smiled broadly. The smile of adventure...of danger...thrills...

And the face of Zorro smiled back at him. Not quite Zorro's. A few more lines, a narrower jaw...but definitely Zorro's smile.

Alejandro stepped forward from the shadows and up to the mirror. How had he _never_ seen that in all the years? Never! Not even once! And it had been right in front of his face.

Heavens above it had been _on_ his own face!

Anger at his own inability to perceive the obvious lit the lamentably short fuse upon his temper.

0-0-0-0

By the end of the day, Diego de la Vega was eyeing his father with no small amount of concern, while contemplating leasing permanent quarters in the tavern.

0-0-0-0

**There you go. :) Now, I do have some bad news...my workplace has me working a lot recently, so I will have to abandon the every other day posting schedule and settle on something a bit more realistic. Therefore, the next chapter will be up next Sunday. If I get it done sooner, I promise it will be up earlier. :) **

**Oh, and I know that I was late, but I still really really REALLY love reviews. So please? Pretty please? *smiles sweetly while getting down on knees. ***


	5. We Have Already Come

**Greetings! Here I am posting...not quite on time, but very close. :) Only about 45 minutes late. Sorry...would have been on time, but my horrible weasels...I mean, my darling cats, chose to spill coffee on my computer this afternoon and I was faced the horrifying prospect of my hard drive having zapped itself into cyber heaven. Fortunately, that was not the case. Hard drive is still good, but I _did_ have to reconstruct a very large portion of the chapter as it had disappeared into the nether regions of the technological world.**

**Anyhoo, moving on, this chapter probably contains some spoilers for Ultimate Justice, so if you have not yet watched that episode drop what you're doing and watch it right now! Then come back and keep reading. :) Also, on a quick note, there is some disparity as to the name of Diego's mother in the fanfiction world, and in the show itself. I chose to use the name that was used for her in The Arrival.**

**Hope you all enjoy!**

**0-0-0-0**

Alejandro was pacing in his study. The _hacienda_ was quiet. Too quiet. Without Diego's presence he found himself alone much of the time. The elder don ran a hand through his graying hair and sighed. The absence of his son both fanned and cooled his volatile temper. All he wanted was for Diego to tell him the truth! That was it!

Instead, his son avoided him.

Granted, he had not been the most pleasant companion since his discovery of Diego's secret. In fact, his son probably had grave concerns regarding Alejandro's mental health. With a sigh of disgust, the _caballero_ sank down into his chair. Arms crossed tightly over his chest as he slumped for once; rigid posture forsaken. He hadn't seen Diego all day. Not since before the siesta hour. For once he had not been at the tavern. Alejandro had visited there earlier and enjoyed a meal with Mendoza. The sergeant had been in good story telling form and had related an incident with a bandit robbing the poor box in which he, the brave and noble Mendoza, had courageously faced off against the outlaw...only to be interrupted by an indignant señorita.

Diego had not been to the tavern that day, but Zorro had. The masked hero had tried to steal a few minutes with his lady, and been forced to deal instead with a two-bit thief before running from the garrison lancers. Alejandro shook his head. For once, he could feel a little empathy for his son in his dual lifestyle. As Diego, he was all but ignored by Victoria though he could spend as much time in her tavern as he wished. As Zorro, his love could not be more interested in him, but he had to steal his moments in between sword fights and dodging bullets.

Perhaps his son had decided to try again for some time with his love. The elder don rose and snatched his leather gloves from the desktop. He would return to the tavern. With luck, Diego would be there.

0-0-0-0

Alejandro swung the tavern doors open, enjoying the spicy smells that poured over him; the warm sound of friendly chatter and laughter. Brown eyes scanned the crowd quickly and he felt a sharp pang of disappointment. The face he was looking for was missing. Diego was not there. The don sighed, disheartened. He had so hoped to see his son...

Ah well. Mendoza was there, holding court with one of his tall tales no doubt. A fond smile tilted the corners of Alejandro's mouth. He genuinely _liked_ Jaime Mendoza. While being neither the smartest nor bravest of men, he had a sweet innocence that managed to stay with him regardless of who served as Alcalde. The man was friendly to all, and if he _did _happen to _exaggerate_ every so often, he made up for it in sheer amiability at all other times.

Alejandro settled himself at a table, idly wondering what brave feats Mendoza was embroidering, and if he had located the Alcalde yet. Whatever story he was telling, he certainly had an attentive audience about him. Not only were there a couple soldiers sagely nodding in agreement, but several _caballeros _and other townsfolk.

Glancing about for Victoria, the elder de la Vega suddenly realized that she was also at Mendoza's table, hanging on his every word. Strange. Victoria never ignored her dining room unless..

Alejandro swallowed hard, his heart beating quickly. Unless someone were speaking of Zorro. And from the anxious expression on the pretty señorita's face, what Mendoza was saying was not reassuring.

Rising stiffly, the elderly don moved toward the sergeant as though in a dream. A bad dream. Mendoza's words were audible over the hum of the dining room now. He was indeed speaking of Zorro.

"...and all to save the Alcalde's life! I could not believe it!" Mendoza shook his head solemnly. "The Indians do _not_ take kindly to people trespassing on their burial grounds. If Zorro had not faced the trial, they would have killed our Alcalde for sure!"

_Small loss,_ said the expression clearly stamped across the faces of several people present.

"But what about Zorro?" Victoria asked anxiously, gripping Mendoza's arm with nervous fingers. "Was he hurt?"

The sergeant nodded, obviously enjoying the attention he was receiving from the young lady. "Oh _sí_, the river of pain is not a trial any man escapes from without injury," he said seriously. "He had to run a gauntlet of Indians with heavy sticks, then fight one of their champions...and finally...he had to climb the wall..." Mendoza paused dramatically, until Alejandro was prepared to leap across the room and wring the truth from the fat soldier's lips.

"...of _Death_."

Victoria paled and covered her mouth with her hands.

"What are you talking about, Mendoza?"

For a moment, Alejandro did not realize that it was himself that had spoken. The words were so tight...so rigid with tension that it seemed like they would shatter. The don looked at the wide eyes of the crowd gathered about Mendoza and realized that they were staring at _him_. He did not care. The portly sergeant had news of Diego, and by God, he would know it. Alejandro took a step forward, hands tightening into fists. "_What_ are you talking about? What is this wall of death?"

Mendoza swallowed hard and seemed to wilt under Alejandro's fierce gaze. "The cliffs," he squeaked, voice much higher than usual. "South of the Pueblo, on the Indians' land. They call it the wall of death because of the number of men who have tried to climb...but have not succeeded."

He knew those cliffs. Horror filled his heart. Good Lord, they were almost sheer rock. "The Indians made _Zorro_ climb them?" _His __**son**__!_ "For the life of the Alcalde?" His words rose into a roar; his eyes flashing. "Did he make it?" _Tell me quickly, Mendoza, before I..._

Alejandro was fairly certain that he did not actually speak those words aloud, but he must have given Mendoza a look that conveyed his thoughts very accurately.

"He made it!" Mendoza said hastily, cowering every so slightly. "He made it, Don Alejandro! Truly, I have never seen such a thing." The sergeant shook his head in amazement. "He climbed from the bottom to the top of the cliffs with nothing but his own strength." Another shake of the head. "He has very good arms."

Relief filled him so quickly that the elder de la Vega almost fell to his knees. He prevented himself at the last moment; sitting down a little more heavily than normal beside Victoria. The tavern owner looked at him in concern, her eyebrows drawing together quickly.

"That is where we found him," Mendoza continued, regaining a little of his equilibrium now that Don Alejandro was seated. "We were searching for the Alcalde and came to the top of the cliffs just as Zorro pulled himself over the edge."

_He was alright. He was able to climb the cliffs, so he must not be heavily injured..._

"I have _never_ seen him look so bad!"

Alejandro gripped the edge of the table tightly as Sergeant Mendoza expounded upon Zorro's injuries...the ragged state of his clothing...how stiffly he moved...

A gentle hand on his shoulder made the don start. He glanced at Victoria to see her looking at him with anxious eyes. Her gaze darted to his hand, and Alejandro suddenly realized that his knuckles were white where he had caught hold of the tabletop. He released his hold and tried to smile reassuringly, but knew that it was a sickly affair. The muscles in his face all protested at the movement. He had to get out of here. He had to get back to the _hacienda..._to Diego.

He patted Victoria's hand in a very distracted manner before rising abruptly. Questioning eyes followed him with interest and he muttered something unintelligible about needing to tend to some of his cattle. His quick stride carried him towards the door as fast as he could manage without breaking into a full sprint.

"What is wrong with Don Alejandro?" Sergeant Mendoza's voice carried through the oddly silent dining room.

He was already at the door; already through the door...the wooden portal was closing behind him, but not quickly enough to cut off Victoria's answer.

"I don't know...I have _never _seen him so worried about Zorro_..."_

With a soft click, the tavern door shut behind him. Anything else the pretty owner said was lost behind the thick wooden planks.

But her words had already struck him like a fist between the shoulder blades. He actually stumbled from the walkway to the post where Dulcinea was waiting for him. For several, long moments, the don could not move. All he could do was lean against his mount. Horror smote him. He had given in to his temper once again...and could very easily have exposed Diego to the entire pueblo.

With the stiffness of an old, old man, Alejandro slowly mounted Dulcinea and turned her head toward home.

0-0-0-0

He did not enter the house with his usual flair. Instead of throwing back the door and bellowing Diego's name, Alejandro came in quietly, lost in thought. The don caught sight of his reflection in the same mirror that had shown him Zorro's face. No longer the dashing smile...the bloodless face of a man who was facing a terrible realization stared back at him. Ashen. Creased with years.

Slowly, he turned away from the silver surface of the mirror and made his way to his study. His chair was ready to hold him as he collapsed into it. Leaning forward, Alejandro put his face in his hands. How long he stayed in that position, he did not know.

What he _did_ know was _why_ his son had chosen not to reveal the secret of his identity. Why Diego had hidden his true self for so long. Why even now he said one thing and meant another, keeping his father in the dark.

Diego acted as he did because he knew that Alejandro could not be trusted. Oh, the don was sure that his son knew his father would never knowingly betray him. He was fairly certain that Diego knew his father would gladly die a thousand times over if he thought that it would save his son's life.

But Diego also knew that Alejandro had never taken the time and patience to master his temper.

Alejandro straightened and stroked his thin mustache thoughtfully. His temper...oh his temper. How often had it landed him in significant trouble? Too many times.

Anger made him careless with his words; wounding those around him. His knuckles were scarred from the number of times he had planted a fist into the stable wall. An honorable man he was...but he lacked self control.

Alejandro smote the arm of his chair in a flash of fury. Wringing the bruising pain from his fist, the don rose and began to pace agitatedly. He realized, (deeply disgusted with himself) that he had just lived out the truth of the insight into his own character.

_One of you will have to learn..._

The words echoed through his head, making him stop in his tracks, brown eyes closing in sudden pain. He could see the one who spoke them in his mind's eye...his wife. Nearing the end of her life, she had spoken to him of their son. And himself.

He had forgotten her words. Forgotten them until this very moment.

Alejandro slowly sank back into his armchair, his eyes closed as he allowed his mind to drift back through the years...

0/0/0/0/0

_Alejandro gazed at his wife with a troubled eye. She appeared to be sleeping for the moment, her beautiful eyes closed, breathing deeply. From his position by her side, he noted that she seemed to have lost even more weight. Her skin, always fair, had taken on a paleness that was closer to transparency than fashionably light. Gently, he stroked her dark hair back from her face, trying not to notice the purple shadows under her eyes, nor the way her skin seemed to be stretched over her skull._

_Elena's eyelids flickered, and slowly opened. The blue eyes focused on him slowly, and a soft smile curled the corner of her lips. She reached for him, and he caught her hand eagerly._

_She had never been very strong. But now her fingers seemed to barely curl around his own. He could have wept, except he did not wish to trouble her. Instead, he kept smiling. A brave smile that did not reach his eyes, and hurt the hearts of those who saw it._

"_Where is Diego?" she murmured._

"_I sent him outside to play," Alejandro answered. "Do you want me to call him in?"_

"_Not yet." She glanced toward the window and her smile quirked a little wryly. "I can hear him."_

_Alejandro listened for a moment and chuckled. His son was arguing with their foreman's son. The two boys were constantly at odds with one another because the foreman's son, Pedro, was given to bullying some of the smaller children of the pueblo. Diego could not stand him. Whenever the two met there was sure to be trouble._

_Alejandro probably would not have minded quite so much if the foreman's son were not five years older than Diego. Five years older...roughly two feet taller...about fifty pounds of muscle heavier..._

_And their son insisted upon picking fights with him. Alejandro did not know whether to applaud the bravery or roar at the stupidity. He was about to cross to the window to do the latter when he heard the foreman's voice entering the argument; breaking up the potential fistfight. Alejandro shook his head. His son was so like himself._

_As though reading his thoughts, his wife touched his face, bringing his attention back to her. Her lovely features were troubled; dark eyebrows drawing together. "Alejandro," she said softly, "one of you will have to learn to control your temper."_

_He felt his jaw drop sharply. "What?"_

_Elena pushed herself up on her pillows, still troubled. "One of you," she repeated patiently, "must learn to control your temper!" _

_The caballero could feel the scowl creasing his features, but could not stop it from doing so, even when his wife shot him a knowing look. "I do not know what you're speaking of." His tone was meant to be lofty, but came out as an ill-tempered growl._

_Elena raised an eyebrow at him speculatively. A grin was tweaking the corners of her mouth, growing in direct proportion to the deepness of his scowl. Oh Lord, he was actually pouting. Alejandro threw up his hands in surrender as his wife chuckled softly. Her hand stroked his cheek tenderly as he grudgingly smiled back._

"_I love you, Alejandro," Elena said quietly. Her lips quirked once more as she shook her head. "But you are not the easiest man to live with. And your son is just like you."_

"_Why is it that he is only __**my**__ son when you are describing something negative...?"_

"_One of you __**must**__ learn to control your temper," she repeated earnestly, cutting him off. "Or you will never be happy living together." A sad, faraway look clouded her eyes as she sank back against her pillows. "I will not be there to mediate."_

"_Don't say that." Alejandro caught her hand in his, squeezing it tightly. She would not die. He would hold her here with him. With all the strength of his stubborn will, he would hold on to her life. "You're not going anywhere, querida." The don smiled, even as his heart began to break. _

"_Alejandro," she sighed softly. "I'm not getting stronger." her gaze drifted to the window and she bit her lip. "I know that you have not prepared for this..."_

"_Because you are going to get better," he interrupted stubbornly._

"_...because you refuse to face the truth." the words were softly spoken, and spoken in love, but they delivered all the stinging pain of a sharp blow to the face._

"_Look at me," Elena commanded, her voice stern. "Be honest with yourself, my love. Have I improved?"_

_He could not answer. He did not **want** to answer. The obvious response was no. No, she had not improved. If he looked at his wife objectively; logically, he could see clearly how her health was not so much failing as it was slipping away. Alejandro, however, had never been a logical man. A man of hot temper; of passion, yes. Logic? Not really his strength. He had hidden the truth from his own consciousness because he did not want to believe that he would be facing the rest of his life without his wife by his side. That Diego would be raised with only the memory of a mother._

_The caballero squeezed her hand tightly, almost fiercely. If only he could hold on to her with **his** strength. Words were caught in his throat, unable to move past the grief that had suddenly lodged there in a cold lump._

_Elena sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Alejandro. I knew that you would not accept this on your own, and so I had to tell you." She closed her eyes, and a single tear slid down the pale skin of her cheek. "I had to tell you...because our son will need you. He will need your love, and that you have never denied him. He will also need your patience." The ghost of a smile flickered over her face as her eyes opened once more. "Right now, you don't have any." She looked toward the window, gaze distant. Diego's voice could be heard, shouting gleefully; boisterously. "He is so like you, Alejandro." Again that almost smile. "And because he is so much like you, I know that if things remain as they are, one of you will kill the other in his sleep."_

_Her last words were wry, delivered with gentle humor. Alejandro could not help but smile, even as tears sparkled unshed in his eyes._

"_Querida," he whispered stroking her cheek with one hand, holding tightly to her fingers with the other. "I'm not ready."_

"_I know," she sighed, and her eyes were worried. "That is why I had to tell you." Her eyes were suddenly wet and her lips quivered. "I had to tell you...because you will have to be ready soon."_

"_No," Alejandro said harshly. Desperately. "No."_

_He saw the disappointment in her features, but he ignored it. He would **not** accept this! She was going to live. She was going to live and be there by his side, as she was supposed to. She would not leave him and Diego. She would not..._

_If he did not look into her eyes, he could avoid the look she gave him, and the certain knowledge that soon, he would be alone._

_0-0-0-0_

Alejandro slowly opened his eyes. How long had he sat unmoving? Long enough for his muscles to stiffen and cry in protest when he stirred. Long enough for the sun's light to creep behind the horizon. His study was dark and cold. Rising slowly, the _caballero _struck a match and lit the candles placed in readiness on his desk.

The warm glow of the candles' flames sparkled in the golden frame of the cameo resting upon the desktop. Alejandro lifted it and gazed at the young woman painted there. She was lovely. The painter had captured the playful sparkle of her eyes; the dimple that lurked in her cheek. Her wide eyes had long lashes which she had passed to their son.

It was strange how there were some days when he almost forgot her...and then there were days when it seemed like her absence would crush his heart into powder.

"Oh, my love," he whispered, one finger gently tracing the painted curve of her cheek. "You were right. You tried to tell me, but I would not listen."

He set the cameo down gently, and took a deep breath. "For the two of us to live together, one of us had to change." Tears filled his eyes, but did not fall. "You would be so proud of our son, if you could see him. He saw what needed to happen and he took hold of his temper. He reined himself in..." One hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "And he puts up with a cranky, bad tempered old man who cannot see beyond his own pride." Brown eyes twinkled through the sparkle of tears. "You would be so proud." A chuckle that was more than half a sob shook him. "You would slap me."

"Oh, _querida_, I have been such a fool. You tried to warn me years ago, but in my pride and stubbornness I would not listen." For a few moments, he could not speak anymore. Emotions tangled themselves into a knot in his throat, and the elderly don sat down in his chair and placed his head in his hands. For a few minutes, the only sound to break the stillness of the room was the steady tick of the clock that rested upon a shelf.

Finally, Alejandro straightened and rested his chin on folded hands. Brown eyes glanced towards the cameo resting upon his desk. In the flickering light of the candles, the portrait of his wife seemed more animated, her eyes almost alive.

"I cannot afford to waste anymore time, love," Alejandro addressed her, voice thoughtful. "I will take my temper in hand, and prove to our son that I can be trusted with his secret." The don leaned back, resting his head against the back of his chair. "It will take a long time." He winced, thinking of his behavior since he had learned of Diego's secret. He could not blame Diego for not trusting him! He, Alejandro de la Vega, had behaved like an ill-tempered, flogged, half-starved bear! No wonder his son did not wish to spend time around him!

Things had to change. They had to. If only to bring his son back to enjoy his company while he was here because...

Alejandro swallowed hard and suppressed a shudder. Because someday, Diego might not come back. Zorro might overreach himself, a lancer could pull off a single lucky shot, Tornado could throw his rider, or any one of a dozen tiny...cruel...twists of fate and Diego would be gone.

He had to prove to his son that he could be trusted to hold his temper, and wait for Diego to trust him with his secret. At the very least, he wanted his son to feel welcome in his father's presence, rather than condemned. Accepted, not judged.

The slow, limping step of a wounded man sounded in the hall and Alejandro rose quickly, his heart in his throat. He could hear Diego's voice conversing with Felipe. The younger man must not be aware that Alejandro had returned to the _hacienda._

"Don't worry, Felipe. Head wounds always bleed profusely. Actually, all things considered, I think I escaped fairly whole. And we have avoided a war with the Indians, which I must say is worth the cost of a few cuts, and bruises."

A moment of silence.

Diego sighed, his voice closer to the study door now. "Yes, I'm sure that my father will be quite curious to know how I obtained my injuries..."

Alejandro pulled the door to his study open. "Diego."

0-0-0-0

Today had not gone as planned. Diego gritted his teeth together as he limped down the hall toward his bedchamber. As a matter of fact, he could not think of a time right offhand when things had gone _less_ according to plan.

Today was supposed to be a pleasant sort of a day. He had ridden out from the _hacienda_ before the siesta hour with the hopes of spending some time with Victoria without having to worry about one or both of them being shot in the process. While his agenda had seemed to be progressing promisingly at first, it quickly took a turn that could only make him suspect that God hated him beyond all reason. He had never given much thought to the Hindu beliefs of karma and such, but the day's events had made him wonder if he truly had lived a past life, perhaps as the murderer of babies. And puppies. The tall man sighed in disgust and thrust such heretical thoughts from his head.

At the very least, he had avoided war with the Indians. Not that the Alcalde was at all grateful, but he was not particularly concerned with earning the gratitude of De Soto. Perhaps he should have left the odious man in their clutches. He could not deny it had been a tempting proposition. If the threat of Spanish reprisal had not been so real, he...oh, who was he kidding? He still would have tried to save the man's miserable life.

Diego winced. His left ankle was swollen where one of the Indians had brought their stave down with bruising intensity. Several ribs were cracked, his head was pounding...and he had _no_ idea of what he was going to tell his father. The very idea that his many injuries would escape Alejandro's ferocious gaze was laughable.

Felipe's brown eyes looked up at him with concern as Diego hissed in pain. Hands moved quickly, touching his own head and pointing to Diego.

The young man had been quite concerned over the small gash and bruise that decorated Diego's forehead. Probably remembering the concussion the _caballero_ had suffered a couple years back. "Don't worry, Felipe." Diego smiled down at his ward as reassuringly as possible. "Head wounds always bleed profusely. Actually, all things considered, I think I escaped fairly whole. And we have avoided a war with the Indians, which I must say is worth the cost of a few cuts, and bruises." He had to keep telling himself that, or he would return to the pueblo this very night and beat the Alcalde senseless.

Felipe pointed to the door of Alejandro's study and raised his eyebrows meaningfully as he gestured to Diego's numerous wounds.

The tall man barely stopped himself from making a face, and contented himself with a sigh. Thank heavens his father was still at the tavern. He had no idea as of yet what he was going to tell the elder de la Vega. "Yes, I'm sure that my father will be quite curious to know how I obtained my injuries..."

The door to Alejandro's study opened with a suddenness that almost made Diego leap backwards in shock.

His father stood framed in the doorway, an expression on his face that could not be easily identified. It might be called...relief?

Alejandro actually smiled at the sight of his son, his eyes lighting up. "Diego."

0-0-0-0

The tall man nearly jumped out of his skin. The shocked expression on his face really would have been most comical if Alejandro had not been more focused on the bruises he could see clearly on his son's skin, even in the dim light of the candles that lit the hall.

"Father! I did not hear you come home...I thought that you were still at the tavern." Diego's glanced at Felipe quickly, his expression guarded. He was probably wondering how much his father had heard.

"Sorry to startle you, son." Brown eyes flickered over his son's frame and the don swallowed hard. "Diego...you're hurt."

"Ah, yes." Alejandro could almost see his son searching for a suitable excuse for his injuries. "I..."

"Are you all right?" From what he had heard, his son was limping slightly, probably from a bruised ankle or shin. There was a small cut on his forehead surrounded by a purpling bruise, and his lip was split. Judging by the careful way he was standing, Alejandro guessed that Diego might also have broken ribs.

"...yes." Diego cocked his head to the side, blue eyes confused. "Yes, father, I am."

"I'm glad." Alejandro placed a gentle hand on Diego's shoulder, careful not to hurt him. "You know that I worry about you, son."

Diego's expression closed suddenly, eyes going flat.

Alejandro shut his jaw with a snap, realizing that what he just said could (and probably would) be taken in the spirit of his normal badgering and lecturing ways. Already he could see the bland, polite, disinterested smile beginning to turn the corners of Diego's lips. This was not what he wanted...

The elderly don sighed in frustration. Before his son could shut him out completely, Alejandro gripped him by both shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. "I am so glad that you will be all right, Diego," he said sincerely. With a final gentle squeeze, he released the younger de la Vega. "Good night, Son."

Without another word, Alejandro strode away down the hall. He did not ask how Diego had received his injuries, did not press for details or sigh in disgust. It might not be much...but it was a beginning. And every path needed a beginning.

0-0-0-0

Diego could feel his jaw was hanging agape as he stared at his father's back. The elder de la Vega did not look back, and in a moment the quiet click of his bedchamber door shut Diego and Felipe into the silence of the hall.

What...on...earth...?

He was at a loss. After the tumultuous weeks of anger and harsh words, Alejandro's behavior was bizarrely out of character. Stepping inside the don's study, Diego quickly inspected the brandy bottle. The level of alcohol did not _seem_ noticeably diminished...unless Alejandro had managed to down the entire bottle and refill it. Diego stroked his chin, deep in thought. No, his father had walked steadily to his chambers. Whatever the reason for his sudden shift in attitude, it did not stem from liquor consumption.

The tall _caballero _looked up to see Felipe framed in the doorway. The young man shrugged, also surprised by Alejandro's behavior. But he was smiling. Pleased.

Diego drew in a deep breath. He had to admit...with his father's words, it felt as though something that had been slowly tightening inside of him had been released. The tension of weeks was slipping away; making him realize just how strained relations had been in their _hacienda_.

It was a little too soon to count on Alejandro's mood remaining steady, given the mercurial nature of his temperament of late.

But the look in his eyes...

Today had not gone as planned. And yet, Diego found himself smiling as he limped his way to his bedchambers.

0-0-0-0

**There you go! The next chapter should be up within a week! Please review? Please, please, please? **


	6. When This Flesh and Heart Shall Fail

**So...excuse for how late this chapter is...I got nothing. Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry for how late I am in posting. But the chapter is up now, and that's all that counts, right? Enjoy!**

**0-0-0-0**

Time passed in the pueblo. Holding to his conviction, Alejandro took his temper in hand like a skittish colt. Therefore, for him, time passed s...l...o...w...l...y.

This was appalling! Was _this_ what it was like to be Diego? Guarding one's words and actions every moment of every day with all the ferocity of a rabid watch dog? It was _wearing_. Never in his life had he realized just how many stupid, petty people resided in the pueblo and how often they irritated him. Dear _God_, if this was what his son endured it was a wonder Diego hadn't put a bullet through his handsome head years ago!

Of course, Diego had made his decision to master his temper much, much earlier in life. He did not have to deal with the entrenched behavior of decades, as Alejandro did.

But he was succeeding. Little by little, he was gaining ground...and things were becoming easier. A day was coming when he would be able to smile in the face of stupidity (and the Alcalde) with a sense of peace and tranquility.

Well, that was a little farfetched. A day was coming when he would be able to smile in the face of stupidity at least without harboring the secret desire to maim.

Deep in thought, Alejandro stepped into the friendly chatter of the tavern's dining room. It wasn't that things hadn't gotten better. They had. He could feel the difference in the way his son spoke to him; interacted with him. The bland, disarming smile rarely appeared, and Diego's demeanor was more serious. He was allowing his father to see more of himself than had been his wont. For that reason alone, Alejandro knew that controlling his volatile nature would not go unrewarded.

And yet, he chafed! The elder de la Vega sat down heavily at a table and waved at Victoria with an absent-minded smile. He was like a spirited colt; thrust into bit, bridle and reins for the first time in its life.

Placing his leather gloves down, the don dragged a hand over his face. Ah well. What was, was. Alejandro glanced towards the door, looking for his son. Diego had promised to join him shortly, but with the cattle auction, his son must have been delayed. Several of the de la Vega's prize stock were being sold, and Diego had waved his father on as he conferred with one of the ranch hands.

Thoughts diverted by the concerns of his ranch and stock, Alejandro ordered for himself and his son. The chatter of the busy room swirled around him pleasantly. Several _caballeros_ stopped to greet him and discuss the auction and the animals on display. Victoria delivered food with a quick smile and a flutter of bright skirts, moving so swiftly through her tables that she sometimes appeared to be going in two directions at once. At the table closest to the windows a few lancers dined with their sergeant, enjoying Mendoza's tales.

"Are you going to bid on the Gonzales' bull, Alejandro?" Don Miguel seated himself beside the elder de la Vega, amiable face curious.

"That demon?" Alejandro snorted in disdain. "I have a fine bull of my own, and I don't want the added care of a monster."

Don Miguel chuckled appreciatively. The Gonzales' bull was stuffed with the bloodlines of noble animals, but it had a murderous disposition. Small wonder his owners had chosen to put him up for auction.

A scream broke through the peaceful chatter of the dining room. Conversations went abruptly silent as more voices joined the shrill noise. Cries of dismay...of fear...

And the bellowing and crashing of an enraged animal.

The tavern's occupants abandoned meals and tables, filling the windows and doorway. Alejandro rose swiftly, but found his way blocked by the press of bodies.

"A bull is loose in the plaza!" Mendoza called out, his voice shooting higher. Craning his neck, Alejandro could barely catch a glimpse of the stout sergeant. Mendoza had practically pressed his nose to the glass trying to see what was happening outside. "Someone is distracting it," Mendoza cried over the pushing, jostling crowd as Victoria's patrons strove to get a better look. The sergeant's eyes suddenly widened. "It is Don Diego! Don Diego is fighting the bull!"

A general gasp of astonishment rose from the gawkers, but Alejandro did not note it. Somehow, he had pushed his way through to the door.

Outside the tavern, the plaza was in chaos. Stalls were overturned; vegetable stands splintered. Shards of broken pottery crunched beneath Alejandro's boots as he hurried down the wooden walkway. The fenced paddock constructed solely for the cattle auction appeared to have been struck by an enormous, rather malicious hand. The wooden timbers were all but splinters, left in the wake of the raging animal.

And there...there was his son.

Diego faced off against the massive bull, his only weapon a broom. Alejandro stared; jaw agape. Once more, he was struck by his own blindness. Diego moved with the assurance and grace of a superb swordsman. Despite the humbleness of his chosen weapon, his stature and bearing commanded attention. Square jaw set, his blue eyes were steady, focused; _alive_ with the danger. Even as the elder de la Vega watched, Diego brought the head of his broom down with a stinging smack across the bulls' nose as it tried to edge around him, making the hulking mountain of bovine muscle bellow with rage.

A crowd of onlookers swirled between Alejandro and his son. He lost sight of Diego, but he could still hear the bull.

Ranch hands were running forward with lassos, squeezing their way through the throng. Alejandro drew a breath of relief as he followed; anxiously craning his neck for a sight of Diego.

Ropes flew through the air. The _vaqueros_ were calling to each other. The crowd was settling from agitated to relieved. The bull must have been lassoed. With polite firmness, the elder de la Vega continued to maneuver himself through the crowd, looking for his son.

Without warning, the bull bellowed. Alejandro saw it rise onto its back legs, thick neck jerking violently. Ropes were dragged from the hands of those who held them. Lowering its head, the bull leapt forward, thrusting horns with deadly intent. One of the ranchers had raised a rifle, but before he could fire Alejandro heard a man's voice cry out, and then the air seemed to reverberate with the crisp crack of breaking bone.

The voice was cut off abruptly, even as a shot brought the bull down with a crash. The following silence was deafening.

Politeness ceased to be a necessity. Fear rising sharply in his heart, Alejandro began to push, shove, and elbow his way toward the front of the crowd. Diego was all right. He did not even know if it was Diego who had called out. Diego had to be all right.

Despite all his own calming reassurances, the old soldier continued to fight his way forward with growing desperation.

Was it a good or bad thing that people were beginning to pull out of his way, their faces sad and grave?

_Don't look like that! _The don wanted to scream. _Diego will be fine! He will..._

Thoughts came to a halt with a tooth loosening jerk as the last few Los Angelinos moved from Alejandro's line of sight.

Diego lay crumpled on the ground. Eyes closed. To his father's horror struck eyes, he looked like a doll cast away by a careless child. Arms and legs and neck all going in strange directions. Limp and lifeless.

He did not look like he was breathing.

Alejandro had no recollection of moving, but suddenly he was on his knees in the dirt beside his son, calling the younger man's name as he gripped an unresponsive hand.

This could not be happening.

"Diego!"

He could not say that he had never imagined his son's death. Indeed, it had haunted his thoughts since learning of Diego's secret.

"Diego...Diego.."

He had thought that if Diego died before himself, it would be as Zorro...fighting for some noble cause. Not like _this_! Killed by a bull? No!

"_Diego!_" Alejandro clutched his son's hand tightly with both of his own, willing a response...but there was none.

His son...oh, his _son..._

He did not know how long he sat there, gripping Diego's hand, calling his name; pleading for his son to answer.

Gradually, Alejandro became aware that someone was trying to get his attention. A hand was tugging persistently at his sleeve, and had been for some time.

Turning his face, the don saw Felipe staring at him. Seeing that he finally had Alejandro's focus, the young man caught hold of the elder de la Vega's right hand and pulled. With reluctance, Alejandro released his son's hand, eyebrows raising in surprise as Felipe pressed it to Diego's chest. "Felipe...what...?"

Oh.

He could feel Diego's heart. Steady.

Strong.

"Aaah..." Tension slowly eased its grip on the old _caballero_. His son was alive. He could feel his heartbeat. "_Gracias, Dios,_" He whispered, clutching Diego's hand with his left, even as he kept his right pressed over his son's chest. He could feel his heartbeat. "_Gracias._"

0-0-0-0

Felipe paced around Diego's sitting room, eyebrows drawn together in consternation. The afternoon had been hellish, there was no doubt about that. The young man shuddered slightly. When he had realized that it was Diego in front of the bull, he thought his heart would stop. Seeing his friend face down the raging animal had been nothing short of torture. Felipe had been close to the front of the crowd throughout the entire ordeal, and so had seen everything. Every harrowing detail. The sickening crack of breaking bone would forever be imprinted in his memory...as would the sight of Diego's crumpled body.

But what stood out most vividly was Don Alejandro's face.

Felipe came to a halt, his fingers absently stirring his hair into a bird's nest of light brown strands as he remembered. Don Alejandro had come pushing through the crowd, and when his eyes found Diego...it was as though all the blood had drained from the elder de la Vega's face. Like someone had thrust a spear through his heart. Stumbling forward, calling his son's name desperately...

Felipe had never seen Don Alejandro so...so...

Afraid. The older man had been afraid. For his son. It had only taken Felipe a few moments to join the don by Diego's side. The young man had quickly seen that Diego's leg was twisted at a strange angle, and that the younger de la Vega still breathed. Relaying that information to Alejandro, however, took much, much longer.

Felipe glanced over his shoulder, into Diego's bedchamber. Dr. Hernandez had been summoned, and the leg had been set. Fortunately, Diego had remained mostly unconscious. Every so often, the blue eyes flickered open, but they were unfocused and swift to close once more.

Alejandro had not left his son's side for even an instant. At this very moment the old don was seated by Diego's bed, chin resting on clasped hands. However, if he was not mistaken...

A soft snore sounded, and Felipe grinned. He was not mistaken. Alejandro had fallen asleep. Slipping into the bedchamber, Felipe settled himself on the bed, opposite Don Alejandro. He had seen Diego's eyelids twitching a moment ago, and if his mentor was close to waking, he wanted to be able to speak to him.

For a few, long minutes, the only sound to break the stillness of the room was the soft rumble of Alejandro's snores.

Diego's eyelids flickered again and Felipe held his breath. It might not be a sign of returning consciousness. The older man might slide back into sleep as easily as he had every other time throughout the long afternoon.

But no. This was different. There was a more focused expression in the blue orbs as they blinked once...twice...

Then the dear face of his mentor twisted into a grimace of pain. Felipe half rose, concerned. Aching with the need to so something, _anything_ for his friend. But there was nothing that could be done.

Taking a deep breath, Diego gritted his teeth. "How...long...Felipe?"

Felipe held up five fingers, biting his lip. He wished he could help. Take the pain away. Something.

"Five hours?" Diego sighed and closed his eyes momentarily. "My leg is broken, isn't it?"

The young man nodded, wincing at the frustration stamped across his mentor's face. Without the use of his leg, Zorro's activities would be severely curtailed. Some might even make the connection between Diego's injury and Zorro's disappearance.

Thinking of Zorro reminded Felipe of what he wished to speak to Diego about. He had a limited amount of time with Alejandro slumbering nearby, and he could not quite think how to bring up the subject.

Diego's gaze drifted to his father's form, and his brows drew together, confused. "How long has my father been here?"

Felipe held up five fingers once more.

Diego's eyebrows rose in surprise. "He has been here the whole time?"

The young man nodded. This was good. This helped lead into what he wished to relate. Pointing to Alejandro, the young man quickly signed, lean brown hands flickering through the air.

"My father was upset?" To Felipe's surprise, a closed, frustrated expression seeped into the light blue eyes. Diego pressed his lips together tightly, forming a flat, thin line. A sigh slowly escaped his lungs. "No doubt embarrassed that his son could not face a simple bovine without incurring injury."

Felipe's jaw dropped. That wasn't what he meant at all! The young man clutched at Diego's arm, shaking his head violently. When he thought of the desperate fear and pain stamped so clearly across Don Alejandro's face...

The younger de la Vega's eyes went to Felipe's face and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Not angry...worried?" A softness crept into Diego's face. "My father was worried. About me."

Worried was one word for it. Probably not the one Felipe would have chosen, but he supposed that it was as close as he could come for the moment. The young man shrugged slightly and sat back, wishing more than ever that he could speak. Express how deeply afraid Don Alejandro had been.

"Felipe?" Diego cocked his head to one side, surveying his ward critically. "What's wrong?"

How could he tell him? Felipe scowled in frustration at his own inability to communicate with complete clarity. Usually, he had no problem conveying information to Diego...but for this?

Taking a deep breath, the young man sketched a Z into the air, touched a hand to his lips, and pointed at Alejandro.

Dark eyebrows took flight, rising almost to Diego's hairline in his surprise. "What?!" The yelped word left Felipe with no illusions that his mentor had misunderstood him.

Alejandro snorted and stirred. Felipe and Diego froze, but the elder don slipped back into deep slumber quickly.

"What?" Diego asked once more, voice lowered to a whisper. "Felipe, you think that I should tell my father of..." Blue eyes darted toward Alejandro once more. "...of Zorro?"

Felipe nodded adamantly. His friend had not been conscious, and therefore neither heard the pain in Alejandro's voice as he called his son, nor witnessed his fear and grief when he obviously believed Diego dead. The young man swallowed hard. He loved sharing Diego's secret; being the only person that the older man trusted with Zorro's identity. He knew, better than anyone, that there might come a time when Zorro was caught. Cut down. Killed by sword, or dagger, or bullet. Seeing Don Alejandro's distress had made the young man realize just how crushing losing his son would be for the elder don.

What if Zorro were killed, and Don Alejandro didn't know Diego's secret? Would he wait in growing fear for the younger man's return? Would he put together the pieces and realize that his son had been Zorro all along? Would he search for Diego, eventually giving up in despair? The very idea made Felipe almost sick. He couldn't stand for one of the people he loved best in the world to go through something like that.

Felipe tapped his head and gestured towards Diego, brows raised in supplication.

"You wish me to think about it." The statement was said with wonder and confusion. Diego was obviously questioning his ward's sanity.

A small smile flickered about Felipe's lips and he nodded. Alejandro was not the man he had been. Both Diego and Felipe had noted (with bemusement and no small amount of relief) that the elder don was making an effort to control his temper. He was succeeding too. Not all the time, but there were definitely moments when things that would have made him roar and stomp about the _hacienda_ three months ago only caused him to grind his teeth together and scowl. He even managed to be polite to the Alcalde on occasion. (granted, the effect was somewhat lost through the grinding of teeth, but the effort was there)

Diego sighed, and his gaze drifted to his father once more. His eyes were thoughtful. "I will...consider telling him." A wince flickered over his face. Felipe signed quickly, gesturing to the medicine that Dr. Hernandez had left for the pain.

The _caballero's_ wince quickly turned to a grimace of distaste, and Felipe grinned. A hero he might be, but Diego was worse than a small child at taking his medicine. The young man rose and mimed pouring tea. If he made the brew strong enough, he doubted that Diego would be able to taste the bitter pain killer.

0-0-0-0

Diego scowled as he watched Felipe depart his bedchamber. Why Hernandez insisted on using such foul potions was beyond his comprehension. Surely there must be a way to make medicines appealing as well as healthful.

To distract himself from the aching pain in his leg, Diego turned his mind to the problem. There were fruit juices that could be used that would not negate the effects of most herbs...the younger de la Vega stirred, and immediately regretted it as the broken bones grated and sent stabbing shards of red hot agony shooting up his leg and into his brain.

A groan escaped him before he could stop it and Alejandro jerked in response to the sound. Diego quickly clamped his lips together, watching his father slowly sink back into slumber. A frown creased Diego's handsome face. Curious, that Felipe had suggested telling the older man of Zorro's identity. And the boy seemed so upset when Diego assumed Alejandro had been angry and disappointed. What happened? Casting his mind back, Diego's frown deepened. The last thing he remembered with any kind of clarity was the charging mountain of evil-tempered muscle leaping towards him. After that, there were only vague flashes. He must have been slipping in and out of consciousness. He had no recollection of his leg being set, but that was probably for the best. He remembered coming to for an instant and being aware that there were people clinging to his hands...Diego absently closed his right hand into a fist and winced. Surprised, the _caballero _suddenly realized that whoever held his right hand had been gripping it hard enough to leave bruises. Not Felipe...no...Felipe had been on his left. A blurred image of the young man's face, eyes wide with worry sprung from his memories. Definitely on his left. Who had been on his right? Victoria? But she did not have the strength to leave bruises with her small hands...

"Diego?"

Blue eyes shot up to meet brown. He did not know what he expected to see in his father's gaze, but what he found surprised him.

Relief.

Alejandro leaned forward, a smile creasing his face. "Diego! How do you feel, son?"

An answering smile quirked Diego's lips. "Oddly enough, I feel like I have had my leg broken. By a bull."

"Yes," Alejandro snorted, scowling suddenly. "By a bull. A bull that you were fending off with a broom."

He would never hear the end of this, Diego realized. This was one of those tales that would be told and retold around the pueblo. Remember the foolish man who got his leg broken by a bull? Oh yes! Wasn't he the one who was trying to fight it with a broom? That's the one! What an idiot.

Alejandro shook his head.

_And here comes the tirade_, the younger de la Vega thought, with a sinking heart. And things had been so peaceful lately. Very peaceful, actually. Odd. He waited, steeling himself for the diatribe he felt sure was coming.

Silence fell on his ears. Silence and the grinding of teeth. Alejandro drew in a deep breath and reaching out, squeezed his son's shoulder. "It was a brave thing to do, Diego."

The older don rose slowly to his feet, stretching. Apparently unaware that his son's eyes had just widened to the approximate size of tea saucers. Alejandro strode towards the doorway and stopped, his back towards his son. "Diego..." a very pregnant pause was filled with the air of a man carefully weighing his words. Looking back over his shoulder, the don met his son's eyes. "It was very brave, son. No one would deny that. Brave...but foolish." He turned away once more, and when he spoke again, it was as though each word was chosen with great deliberation. "If there must come a time when you leave me, do not let it be for something foolish, Diego. Please." His father drew a slightly shaky breath. "Please, son. Make sure that it is for something important."

Before he could reply, Alejandro strode away, shutting the door to Diego's chambers behind him.

The younger de la Vega sat in a stunned stupor. What...? Had his father realized...? Did he mean...?

No...no. It couldn't be. His father simply meant what he said. He didn't want his son to die for something meaningless.

His father had changed. Almost imperceptibly, but he had changed. The older don was making a genuine effort to control his temper...something Diego could not remember him ever doing before.

Perhaps Felipe was right. Perhaps the time had come to reveal everything to his father.

The _caballero_ settled himself back against his pillows, lost in thought. Yes. Yes, it was indeed time. He just needed to find the right moment...

Unfortunately, life intruded before the perfect moment could be found, bringing a stranger to the pueblo. Chaos, violence, and bloodshed traveled in his wake. The stranger would turn the de la Vega's life inside out before he was finished with them, ensuring that they would always remember the name of Gilberto Risendo.

0-0-0-0

**There you go...and I know that I was very late, and so deserve nothing but ash thrown on my head and scourging with whips, but I would love reviews instead. :)**


	7. And Mortal Life Shall Cease

**Okay, so I'm late posting, but not horrifically late, and at least I'm posting an extra long chapter, right? *smiles sweetly***

**IMPORTANT- Up until this point, this story had been woven through the episodes of the NW Zorro, but could make sense if you were reading it without having watched that show. This is coming to an end. The next couple chapters will be events from, and fillers for the final four episode arc of the series. This chapter in particular is covering "The Arrival", and "Death and Taxes". If you have **_**not**_ **watched those two episodes, I cannot suggest strongly enough that you do so before reading this...cause it won't make any sense otherwise. **

**Don't think that there's anything else that needs to be mentioned...other than thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! I love hearing from you all!**

**On with the fic!**

0-0-0-0

The day had begun with promise. The King's Emissary was due to arrive, and the entire pueblo was in an excited mood of anticipation. De Soto in particular had been eagerly awaiting Don Gilberto, and ordered the plaza decorated with bright streamers hanging from every post and building.

Somewhere along the line, everything had gone very, very wrong.

The Alcalde was being pushed towards his own jail, and Victoria was in the middle of facing off against the man responsible.

"Executed?!" Even as she stepped forward, the de la Vega men followed closely behind her. Victoria threw a sharp glance at Diego as he came up beside her, his hand at her elbow. Alejandro could practically hear Diego begging her to back down, but she did not heed the look he gave her. The señorita whipped her pretty face back towards Risendo; eyes flashing. "On what grounds? !"

The Emissary smirked down at the petite tavern owner. "Perhaps you'd like to join your treasonous...inept...Alcalde." The tone of his voice made Alejandro's skin crawl with disgust. This was a man who had power, and enjoyed using it to torment others. He took pleasure in peoples' pain.

"Treason?" Victoria breathed, obviously nonplussed. "What are you talking about?"

"Spain is embroiled in a war with France," Risendo snapped. "An _expensive_ war. And your distance from Madrid does not excuse you from your obligations to the king!"

Victoria drew a deep breath of outrage. Alejandro winced. He could actually see her spine go rigid as she began to tremble with temper. "Obligations? Well excuse me, but we pay our taxes!"

Murmurs from the gathered crowd agreed with the feisty woman. Encouraged, Victoria continued: "We pay taxes on our homes, on our _crops_," as she listed each item, the young woman's voice rose, frustration evident. "Why, we pay taxes on everything!"

Despite the growing cries of agreement rising about him, Risendo maintained his smirk. "You will now pay a special war tax," he informed the gathering almost blandly. "I'm authorized to collect a total of ten thousand pesos."

"Ten thousand pesos to wage a war?" Victoria queried in disbelief, her indignation rising. "That will only benefit you and some...some cannon makers? !"

Too far. She had gone too far. Alejandro knew it the moment the words left her lips. As proud as he was of her for speaking out, he would be the first to admit that Victoria did not always consider the consequences of her choices very thoroughly. To antagonize a man who had just ordered the death of the Alcalde so arbitrarily was...not wise.

Don Gilberto glanced at his lieutenant almost languidly. Without further ado, the other man pulled a pistol from his side holster and leveled it at Victoria's eyes.

Before Alejandro could move to her defense, Diego was there.

The younger de la Vega immediately pushed himself forward, interposing his large body between the pistol and Victoria. "Señor Emissary," he said calmly, one hand pushing Victoria back into Alejandro's arms. She went willingly, oddly enough and Alejandro could feel her trembling even as he held her tightly; protectively. The sight of the pistol had badly startled her.

"I must apologize for the señorita," Diego continued; still calming, but he did not move one inch. Positioned as he was, his body provided a shield for Alejandro and Victoria both. "She is a...modern woman." The foolish, disarming smile was there, working its' magic as always. "Argumentative, perhaps," the look he cast Victoria was a warning for her. If he could have shoved a gag in her mouth at that moment, Alejandro was fairly certain he would have done so. Turning back towards the Emissary, the younger de la Vega smiled sweetly once more. "But fiercely loyal, nonetheless."

There was a split second of silence in which Diego's words were weighed and considered by Risendo. Alejandro drew a deep breath, ready to thrust Victoria out of harms' way...

Gilberto nodded to his lieutenant, and the weapon was withdrawn. A collective sigh of relief escaped the crowd. The old don squeezed Victoria's arms reassuringly as he felt her muscles relax.

Diego grinned earnestly, still obviously between the petite woman and the King's Emissary. "It's ah...it's a shame that the war with the French goes so...uh...poorly." The smile continued to hitch the corners of his mouth into place, but there was a coldness to his blue eyes that alarmed Alejandro.

_What are you doing, Diego_?

Except, he _knew_ what his son was doing. Making absolutely sure that the Emissary's attention was fully withdrawn from Victoria by presenting him with a new target.

"Poorly?" Risendo repeated stiffly. Holding his nose a little higher in the air, the better to look down it, Don Gilberto sniffed disdainfully. "We are close to victory!"

Diego's dark brows drew together in feigned confusion. "Well just yesterday I received a letter from an old friend; a captain in the cavalry. He tells me that our armies are being routed."

Risendo's eyes went flat. "And just what would be the name of your friend; this...Captain?"

Seemingly heedless of the danger, Diego continued on, his smile still in place. "He says his men are laying down their arms in surrender."

Staring at his son, Alejandro was seized with the desire to elbow him sharply, as he had when Diego was a young boy, and speaking too loudly in church. _Be __**silent**_**, **_son... _As much as he admired his son for doing what was right, there was a thin line between heroism and stupidity and in his opinion, Diego was purposefully straddling it.

"After all he should know what he's talking about," the tall _caballero_ continued, purposefully ignoring the cold glare leveled at him by Don Gilberto. Without warning, Diego's manner shifted. His smile hardened into a much more insolent expression. "He's in the front lines, not collecting _taxes_ in the colonies." There was no ignoring the open disdain in the younger de la Vega's tone. His blue eyes were challenging. The smile was still in place, but there was nothing simple, or disarming in it now. This was Zorro's smile, Alejandro realized. The daring, reckless smile of the masked outlaw.

"I'll have his name!" Risendo ordered, responding accordingly with the raising of his tone.

"It's really not important," Diego answered cordially, still smiling. A coldness had frozen the _caballero's_ lips though. He was openly taunting the Emissary...daring him to retaliate.

Alejandro ground his teeth together sharply. _Diego, my son, you are __**not**_ _being cautious!_

Drawing a deep breath, Risendo nodded to the man at his side. "Lt. Hildalgo, take this arrogant _caballero_ to the cuartel."

With dignity, Diego stepped forward submissively to follow the lieutenant. He had achieved his purpose. Risendo had all but forgotten the woman shielded by Alejandro's arms.

Casting his gaze furiously about, Don Gilberto raised his voice so that everyone in the plaza could hear him. "I am going to teach this pueblo the meaning of loyalty!" His eyes grazed the crowd once more and his sneer became more pronounced. "Clear the area!"

Loathe to obey, the peasants and farmers were slow to move, their eyes on Diego's tall figure as he strode through the wooden gates of the garrison; following the Alcalde's recent path towards the jail. "I said clear the area!" the Emissary called once more, incensed at the reluctance to capitulate. Royal Guardsman moved forwards with rifles to chivy along those who would linger.

Alejandro could not believe what was happening to his home. Within moments, Los Angeles had turned into a dictatorship, controlled by a self important man who ruled by force and intimidation. The old don watched as his son strode towards the jail, and felt his ire rising hotly. _Control, Alejandro. Control._

Gently, Alejandro released the young woman clinging to him. "Go back to the tavern, Victoria," he said quietly. He wanted a few moments to speak with the Emissary, but Victoria did not need to be in the line of fire when he did...The don gestured to Felipe, indicating that he should accompany her.

Don Gilberto was turning to leave.

"Señor!" The word was sharp, calling across the distance and catching Risendo's attention. The Emissary paused, eyebrows raised disdainfully.

Alejandro strode forward, back straight and face grim. "That's _my son_ you have in jail."

Risendo sneered. "Then you should teach him to keep a tighter reign on his mouth." Dismissing Alejandro with a shrug he made to leave once more.

"The de la Vegas always speak out!" Alejandro snapped, voice rising even as he strove to keep his temper.

To his surprise, the Emissary's head whipped around at the sound of the name, eyes wide.

"I never thought I'd see the day when free speech would be denied in Los Angeles," the don brought his voice back down, but his words were clipped as he struggled with rage.

"De la Vega," Don Gilberto said, almost to himself. Blue eyes narrowed as he met Alejandro's unwavering gaze. "And you would be...?"

"Alejandro. De la Vega." The old _caballero _enunciated his name clearly, with pride. Back straight, brown eyes burning through the calm veneer he projected. "Friend to the royal family." He saw recognition spark in the Emissary's eyes and was hard pressed to keep a cold smile from turning the corners of his mouth. Friends in high places could mean the rise or fall of a man in Risendo's position, and Alejandro knew it. "Perhaps even you have heard of me?"

"Oh, yes. I've heard of you, señor." A strange expression lit the younger man's hard features. One that Alejandro found difficult to recognize. "I've _certainly_ heard of _you_."

Years later, Alejandro would look back on the events that unfolded over the next few days and realize that he should have known _then_; right then, looking into the Emissary's cold eyes, that something was wrong with this man. He seemed almost...eager.

"My apologies, Don Alejandro," Risendo said smoothly, bowing ever so slightly. As he straightened, the eager look was hidden behind a smile that was attempting to be pleasant.

Alejandro was not fooled. Did the man think he was an idiot?

"Once it was known that I would be traveling to Los Angeles, I was practically inundated with the many well wishes from your acquaintances in Madrid." He smiled tightly, and for a moment, there was a malevolent glitter in his eyes. "I certainly have no wish to disappoint your many friends...is there somewhere we may converse?"

Alejandro's eyes traveled slowly around the plaza, seeing the last of the crowd gathered to greet the King's Emissary being herded away at rifle point. His jaw tightened slowly. Anger was building. Within the space of a few moments, this man had invaded their home, sentenced the Alcalde to death, threatened Victoria, and imprisoned Diego. Yet here he was, attempting to be friendly. It was like staring into the smiling jaws of a crocodile.

The old don forced himself to keep a level head, banking his wrath. With one hand he gestured graciously towards the tavern.

He did not know what the Emissary was after, but he would learn nothing by losing his temper. Brown eyes raked the plaza once more as Risendo stepped toward the door of Victoria's establishment. Gay streamers still fluttered in the wind, looking sad and forlorn in the suddenly empty plaza. De Soto had ordered them placed in preparation for the arrival of Risendo; overseeing every detail himself.

Now he sat in jail, awaiting execution.

Alejandro felt his jaw tightening once more as he stepped past the Emissary to lead the way. There would be a reckoning for the King's chosen man.

0-0-0-0

"And your old friend, Don Jose Gabriel, owns five textile mills and half of Barcelona, " Risendo followed Alejandro into the tavern, relating news of the old don's friend's. "Has four sons and _thirteen_ grandchildren." Both men approached the bar and Risendo leaned his elbow against the polished wood as Alejandro slapped his gloves down. "How about you, Alejandro? Any grandchildren?"

A pang twisted the former soldier's heart. No, he had no grandchildren. He might never have grandchildren. His son was embroiled in a crusade against injustice, and a part of Alejandro knew that Diego would not marry as long as there was the chance that he would be caught, leaving his wife the widow of an outlaw.

"No grandchildren," the don said shortly. "My son is not married."

"Is that so?" Don Gilberto smiled, but there was nastiness in the expression. "A shame."

"Not yet," Alejandro snapped. "And he won't _get_ married as long as he sits in your jail!"

"I know how angry you are," Risendo began, his voice that of an adult cajoling a petulant toddler.

Alejandro saw red for an instant and his voice rose in preparation for a verbal onslaught. "I am...!"

"Something to drink!" Risendo quickly spoke over the _caballero's _words, commanding Victoria arrogantly.

Meeting her dark eyes over the bar, Alejandro saw her cheeks burning with anger. She was still, obviously contemplating refusing the Emissary service. After Diego had thrown himself into the man's path to remove her from danger, the elder de la Vega could not allow _his _temper to run away with him.

He reined himself in with difficulty, forcing his features to assume a calm expression that belied his true emotions. "Victoria," he asked quietly. "_Por favor."_

The señorita gave in with obvious reluctance. With tight lips and eyes flashing, she pulled two glasses from behind the bar and set them before the men, followed by a pitcher. "_Gracías,_" Alejandro said softly. Victoria graced him with a glare before stalking away to assist other guests. Risendo paid her as little notice as the architecture, and Alejandro was incensed to realize that Victoria was so much beneath his notice that the Emissary did not even recognize her as the woman he had almost ordered killed barely half an hour ago.

"Don Alejandro," Risendo began as he lifted the pitcher and poured drinks for both of them. "As a friend of the king you _know_ that no matter how badly the war with France goes, we can't be telling such news to every peasant, laborer..."

"Or taxpayer?" the don interrupted coldly. He had met men like the Emissary before in Spain. Men who truly believed that they lived in an elevated place where birth was the only measure of a man. Such a man he might have become himself, had he stayed there. Fortunately, Alejandro had returned to California. Here, where nobility was sparse and peasants were many, he was forced to rely on and work beside the men Risendo saw as being beneath his notice. In doing so, he had come to the conclusion that birth into a family of rank made no better men than birth into a peasant farmer's one room home. Some of the best, most honorable images of God were those who worked his fields. While the worst inhabited the fine halls and perfumed ranks of the nobility. Like the man who stood before him now. No sense of justice, cruel, indifferent, and arrogant. Alejandro could feel his temper rising steadily, but kept his features composed.

"Yes, precisely," Don Gilberto said in delight, obviously missing the way a muscle was beginning to jump in Alejandro's jaw. "You see, we understand each other perfectly." Risendo frowned slightly. "On the other hand...Diego? Is that his name? Seems terribly _confused_ by the political realities of today's world." That nasty smile was there again. Lurking in the corners of an expression that Risendo was trying to pass off as pleasant. It was as though he was trying to subtly goad Alejandro; force him into losing his temper and saying or doing something that would give the Emissary an excuse to...

…an excuse to...what? What did the man want?

He would _not_ rise to the bait. This man was not _worth _his anger. Only his disdain. "Well," the old soldier said coldly, "the foremost reality is that...Diego, and that _is_ his name, sits in your jail, doesn't he?"

There was that expression again. The one Risendo had when he had heard Alejandro's name. Strangely eager. Victorious. Hateful. "You must hold him very dear."

"Yes, he's my only son." Poor Elena had always spoken of having many children, but her pregnancy had been very hard on her...and then she had slipped away. "We're loyal to each other." How many times had Diego shown that he would do anything and everything for his father? Alejandro only hoped his son would know someday that his father was prepared to do the same. The old don lifted his glass in a salute. "_And_ to Spain!" Let Risendo think that he was drinking to the health of the king. In his own mind, Alejandro drank to his son.

"In that case," Risendo lifted his own glass, mirroring Alejandro, "he shall go free."

The elder de la Vega lowered his drink slowly, brown eyes fixed on Don Gilberto. What was the Emissary playing at? Something...something was going on. There was more to the King's man than immediately met the eye. Setting the glass down on the polished wood of the bar, Alejandro scooped his gloves up and nodded slightly to Risendo before striding quickly away, thoughts already with his son.

As his quick pace carried him across the plaza, Alejandro took slow, deep breaths. _Calm, Alejandro_. _Flying off the handle right now will only harm Diego._ By the time Risendo caught up to him, the old don's features were perfectly composed; his head held high, back almost painfully straight.

Stepping over the threshold of the Alcalde's office, the former soldier waited impatiently, his gloves tapping against his leg in agitation as Risendo leisurely instructed Sergeant Mendoza to release Diego. Alejandro's eyes followed Mendoza's round, bobbing form as he slipped inside the jail. He could hear the stout sergeant relating news to the Alcalde, and then the welcome sound of a key rattling against iron bars.

He didn't wait for Diego to come to him. Pushing past Risendo, Alejandro followed Mendoza; entering the jail just as Diego emerged from his tiny, spartan cell.

Stepping forward, Alejandro reached out and pulled his son into an embrace. He could feel that Diego was slightly startled by this unprecedented public display of affection, but the younger man did not hesitate to return it warmly.

The elder de la Vega could not even say for sure what had prompted him. He hadn't been _worried_ about Diego...but there was something in the air...something in the way Diego had reacted so harshly to the Emissary...

Perhaps it was a premonition...the feeling that his son might not always be there for him to hold. Alejandro shuddered inwardly.

"Such..._devotion..._between a father and son," Risendo's voice brought both de la Vega's back to the present. Seemingly approving, there was a sneer in the depths of that tone that Alejandro did not like.

The former soldier glared back at the Emissary. "The de la Vega's take great pride in family loyalty," he said coolly. He could sense the tension in his son. Diego was angry, he suddenly realized.

"How inspiring," Risendo commented, that strange, nasty smile lingering in the corners of his mouth and the glint of his eyes. "It should be a lesson to us all."

To Alejandro's surprise, Diego actually started to move towards the Emissary. The father stopped his son with an upraised hand and quick warning look. "Diego," he said quietly, "time we went home."

The tall _caballero_ did not take his eyes from Risendo, but he followed Alejandro out of the jail without attacking the Emissary.

As they stepped out into the plaza, Alejandro gently patted his son's shoulder, and felt a little of the tension leave Diego. The younger man flashed a quick smile down at his father. It was strained, and very forced, but a smile nonetheless. Without a word, Diego strode across the deserted area, heading for the post where both men had left their horses. Alejandro paused for a moment, gaze traveling over the decorations that still fluttered in the wind. The royal guardsmen were busily ripping them down, their movements quick and efficient.

The _caballero_ shook his head slowly. This was not a good omen of things to come.

0-0-0-0

Not a good omen indeed. Alejandro ground his teeth together furiously as the King's Emissary strode away, his lieutenant close at his heels. Seizing church property! As though the attempted execution of the Alcalde had not been bad enough. Fortunately for De Soto, Zorro had foiled Risendo's attempt to rip the Alcalde limb from limb. Even preoccupied as he was with the sudden attack upon the pueblo's church, Alejandro could not suppress the vindictive surge of pride as he remembered Zorro's intervention. His son had made Don Gilberto look like a fool. That was undoubtedly the reason behind the odious man's seizure of church lands. He had to reinstate his position of power in front of the people of Los Angeles with something public. What was more public than their church? Nothing was as central to the lives of ever man, woman and child.

"This is intolerable!" the old don spluttered, hands fisting at his sides as he glared hotly after the Emissary.

"Calm yourself, Father," Diego said tightly. "He can't take the church. He must know that to do so would cause a riot." Blue eyes narrowed as the younger de la Vega followed Risendo with his gaze. "He has something else in mind."

Several men were approaching the de la Vegas swiftly, faces creased with worry...and anger. Alejandro saw more than one scowl directed at Don Gilberto as he made his leisurely way across the plaza and into the cuartel. Alejandro left Diego to counsel them as he approached Padre Benitez. The padre was also staring after the Emissary, but his expression was grieved, rather than enraged. A gentle soul was Padre Benitez, and it angered Alejandro further to see him distressed.

"Please, Padre," Alejandro made his voice as reassuring as possible. "Do not be troubled. He cannot possibly be serious. And even if he is..."the don glanced towards the farmers gathered about his son, with their angry faces and gestures. "I think he will find that he can _not_ bully the people of this pueblo so easily."

"My son," Benitez laid a gentle hand on Alejandro's shoulder, his brows drawing together. "This must not be a rallying point for violence!" The padre's eyes bored into the former soldier's with surprising strength. "I will not have those under my care using the church as an excuse to harm others. Not even to save the lands we have worked so hard to maintain."

_Calm, Alejandro. Even the padre does not wish violence. And it would solve nothing, as you well know. Has losing your temper ever gained you aught?_ Forcing a smile to his face, Alejandro patted the hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "It will not come to violence, Padre. I promise that I will do everything in my power to prevent it. But we can not allow Risendo to terrorize us either by forcing us to strip the house of God down to nothing." Both men were silent for a few moments, watching Diego speaking to those about him.

Already, Alejandro could see the calming influence his son could have. The men gathered about the tall _caballero_ were relaxing somewhat. Their faces were still grim, but resigned. Diego caught his father's eye and stepped towards the elder de la Vega, excusing himself.

"I believe that a town meeting is in order, Father, padre," Diego said quietly as he approached. "I've already spoken to some of the farmers, but the _caballeros_ must be included as well. Father, if you could request the use of the tavern? Shall we say tomorrow, after the siesta hour?"

Alejandro quickly glanced at the padre and received a gracious nod of affirmation. Turning back to Diego the old man smiled tautly. "That should do very well. Thank you, Son."

As Diego strode away, Alejandro was aware of the priest taking a deep breath of relief. "You have a remarkable son, Don Alejandro," Benitez said quietly. "He is a credit to you."

And he was, Alejandro realized. Diego was not seen as a man of action, but he was highly respected within the pueblo. A swordsman? No...but just, and kind, and honest. What more could one truly wish for in their offspring?

"Thank you, Padre," Alejandro answered softly.

0-0-0-0

Silence reigned over the de la Vega _hacienda_. The two men of the household sat together, but the silence was thick; broken only by the angry scratch of Alejandro's pen on parchment. The old don's eyebrows were drawn together in a ferocious scowl as he penned his letter with furious strokes. It would be a wonder if anyone would be able to decipher anything out of the spiky, angular lines and blotted words. With a snap, Alejandro broke his third quill of the evening. Snorting in disgust, he threw it down and picked up another that Diego had thoughtfully prepared and set at his side.

The town meeting had...not gone as planned. When he remembered that nasty smirk on Risendo's face as he pointed the de la Vega's out as being exempt from taxes...bringing the wrath of the farmers and peasants to bear on _their_ heads...

_Snap._

Fortunately, Diego had readied several quills, anticipating his father's firm hand.

Diego sat with him now, a book open on his lap, though his attention was obviously not focused on the words. The younger de la Vega looked up as his father took up yet another quill.

"What good will a letter to the governor do?" he asked, his frustration coming through the tone of his voice. If there was one good thing about Risendo's arrival, it was that he had managed to destroy some of Diego's calm, and Alejandro got to see more of his son. "Risendo is an emissary to the _king_."

Before he could answer, a knock sounded from the front door. Alejandro glanced over his shoulder at his son. "Were you expecting someone?"

"No," Diego frowned, putting his book aside.

"Well," the elder de la Vega placed his quill back into the ink pot and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm still sending the letter." He sounded somewhat like a peevish child, but he did not care. Striding towards the door, Alejandro caught Felipe's eye and gestured for him to open the heavy, wooden portal. The young man quickly preceded the old don and did as he was bidden...only to reveal the two people Alejandro wished least to see in the world.

"Emissary Risendo," he managed to sound mildly pleasant, even though he wished to slam the door shut once more. "Lt. Hidalgo. What can I do for you?" _Besides leave your broken and mangled corpses at the bottom of a ravine for the coyotes to feed on..._

Risendo smirked, as though he could read Alejandro's thoughts. "Aren't you going to invite us in?"

It truthfully had not crossed his mind. But he supposed that breaking and mangling was better done out of sight... "Of course," he said with a much grace as he could manage. "Why not?" Gesturing with one arm, Alejandro stepped back from the door, allowing his unwelcome guests admittance. "Diego," he called, knowing that his son was already well aware of their company.

"Magnificent _hacienda_," Don Gilberto observed, his eyes traveling over the walls with what Alejandro could only call avarice. "How long have you lived here?"

_Be civil, Alejandro._ "Many years," he managed to say flatly. "Ever since my father arrived...and worked the land." The last comment was a deliberate snipe at Risendo; reminding the Emissary that he had not forgotten the comments of the King's man. He had deliberately turned the wrath of the mob against the de la Vega's, pointing out that they did not pay taxes on the land they owned because they put it under the plow.

"Indeed," Risendo's nasty smile deepened. "But I'm afraid your fellow Los Angelinos won't let you justify your failure to pay taxes on the backs of your ancestors." His smile was widening now, though he attempted to stem that.

Alejandro shot a look at his son, seeing the same concerns as his own making Diego's jaw tighten. Something was coming. Something that would be deeply unpleasant for them.

"You see," Don Gilberto continued, "the mere _threat_ of my seizing church property very nearly caused a _riot_ earlier today...and since part of my duty is to prevent civil insurrection, the will of the people _must_ be taken into account." He was almost grinning, actually. Pleased with the position he found himself in, and the unpleasant situation he was about to inflict on others. "Lt. Hidalgo," he turned graciously to the man at his side. "If you please."

With a small bow, the lieutenant strode back to the door and flung it wide, allowing no less than ten royal guardsmen to flow through the opening. Within seconds the de la Vegas were surrounded and held at rifle point.

Wrath began to rise swiftly in the old don, making his hands clench into fists. This was their _home_, and this man _dared_ to invade it!

"Alejandro de la Vega," Risendo intoned formally. "By the power invested in me by King Ferdinand, I hereby _seize_ this _hacienda_, and all adjacent property." Throughout this small speech, the Emissary had kept his smile at bay, but as he finished, the nasty smirk twisted his lips once more into a diabolical sneer.

It wouldn't take much to wipe that smile from his face. One swift blow, and he would be grinning through split lips and missing teeth. There was a haze of red in front of Alejandro's eyes...and then he looked at his son.

To his shock, he could actually _see_ a muscle jumping in Diego's jaw. The younger de la Vega was dangerously close to losing _his_ temper...something Alejandro had not seen him do in years. Brown eyes flitted about the room and in an instant, his ire was cooled by the more pressing need of keeping all of them alive. If Diego or he lost control and attacked the Emissary...he had no doubt the royal guardsmen would shoot them both. Probably Felipe too.

"Diego," he said through clenched teeth. "Let's go." The old don jerked his head towards the door. Without another look toward Risendo, Alejandro marched out of his home as proudly as though he owned the world. For once, he would lead his son by example.

The de la Vegas made their way to the barn where, after a brief explanation of what had occurred, Miguel quickly prepared their horses. The _vaquero's_ face was pinched with worry as he handed over Dulcinea's reins to Alejandro.

"Don't fret," the _caballero_ said tightly. "This is not over."

A brief, uneasy smile quirked the ranch hand's lips. "Of course not, _patron_."

Diego was stroking Esperanza's neck as Felipe tugged at his sleeve. The younger de la Vega turned his attention to his ward, and after watching the boy's quick hand motions for a moment, he shook his head vehemently. "No, Felipe. Absolutely not."

Alejandro pretended to be busy with tightening the girth of Dulcinea's saddle, but kept an eye trained on his son. Diego's gaze was focused on Felipe, and from the hard expression on his face, the boy was suggesting something that was either ridiculously dangerous or...

"You can't stay," Diego said quietly. "That man is dangerous."

A stubborn, mulish expression spread over Felipe's mobile face. He pointed to himself and tapped his forehead meaningfully.

"Yes," Diego hissed, obviously trying to keep his voice low enough that Alejandro would not overhear. "I know that you would be able to gather useful information..."

Before he could continue, Felipe pressed a hand to his chest, then pointed at the ground and folded both arms over his slender build. Despite his leanness, there was a sudden sense of immobility that he communicated remarkably well.

Ah. Felipe wished to stay as a spy. Alejandro was inclined to agree with Diego at first gasp...but then again...

Hadn't he himself told Diego that it was time to stop treating Felipe as a boy? He _was_ an adult. A young one, and still in the care of the de la Vegas...but that would be true for the rest of his life. A grin tweaked Alejandro's lips, despite the seriousness of their situation. Felipe would never be free of them again. He had become a part of their family in deed, if not in the formal, legal words.

Diego sighed in frustration. "Promise that you will be careful?"

Felipe grinned and nodded, turning to leave. Before he could take more than a step, Diego caught his shoulder. "Felipe, I am very serious. _Be careful_. Risendo is not to be taken lightly."

Alejandro could hear the worry in the younger de la Vega's voice. The concern of a father for a son.

Felipe nodded once more, but his face was grave, obviously taking what Diego said to heart. The young man squeezed the older's hand quickly, and then turned away, exiting the barn and making his way back to the _hacienda_.

"Felipe is staying?" Alejandro asked quietly, pretending that he had just noticed what was happening.

"Yes," Diego's voice was short, blue eyes watching Felipe's slender form disappear inside the kitchen door.

Alejandro could offer nothing. No words were suitable. They were forced from their home, and Diego was leaving behind the only person in the world who knew him completely. A young man who had become a son to him. The old don squeezed his son's shoulder. To his surprise, Diego reached up and clasped Alejandro's hand. For several moments, father and son stood together, unmoving, their eyes resting on the elegant building that had been their home.

And it would be again, Alejandro vowed to himself as he released his son and put his foot in the stirrup of his saddle. It would be again.

0-0-0-0

Alejandro turned from the tavern door and leaned against the bar with a sigh. "Thank you for having us, Victoria," the old man said quietly. "I don't know how, or when, but be assured that I will pay you back."

"Please, Don Alejandro," Victoria patted his hand gently. "Don't worry. I am happy to have you here. You and Diego have always been quick to help me, so it is the least I can do."

She was kind. Very kind, and very compassionate, and filled with righteous indignation over the fate of her friends.

Even so, their exile stung the older man's pride. To be forced to live on the charity of another was almost insupportable. Especially when the farmers (who until recently had held him in respect) treated him with disdain; reveling in his downfall.

Diego kept his head admirably. Despite the sudden humbleness of their living situation and the jeers flung at the two _caballeros_, the younger de la Vega behaved in the same gracious manner as always. They were becoming each others watch guards, Alejandro realized. Each pulling the other back from the descent into uncontrollable wrath.

Furthermore, his son provided food for thought. Why _did_ the Emissary freeze their accounts? Move into the _hacienda_ instead of selling it immediately?

Why was Risendo set upon discomfiting _them_? He had something against the de la Vegas, that much was certain. Some deep grudge. His glee in their reduction of status left no other alternative. And this freezing of their assets...he _wanted_ to cause distress. Alejandro suspected that even if he were to offer Don Gilberto the money in the de la Vega accounts to settle the pueblo's taxes, it would not be accepted. Emissary Risendo did not want to be _given_ anything. Only to _take._

Well, the man had an unpleasant surprise coming for him. Alejandro smiled grimly as he pushed himself away from the bar and climbed the stairs to his room. Diego had left town to seek legal counsel.

The old don had no doubt that Zorro would be visiting Don Gilberto shortly.

0-0-0-0

He could not have imagined that his _hacienda_ would be returned to him so swiftly, but he supposed that he should have. After all, his son was Zorro. The old don stood in the doorway of his home, eyes slowly traveling over the broken furnishings. When Risendo declared that Zorro had made the _hacienda_ unlivable, Alejandro had smirked. Now that he saw the level of destruction...

Broken glass crunched under his boots as he stepped into the hall, shaking his gray head. Bullet holes broke the creamy smoothness of the walls in black star bursts. Several of the more delicate decorations had been shattered, either by the aforementioned bullets, or the battle that had taken place. And on the marble floor...

Alejandro's lip curled in distaste. A pool of the late Lt. Hidalgo's blood had congealed into a rust colored stain. The _caballero_ planted fists on his hips as he scowled down at the spot. That would take scrubbing.

A deep sigh escaped the don's lips. Yes, their home was a mess. No doubt about it. But, with hard work...He smiled. They would clean, and they would repair. The _hacienda_ would be magnificent once again, despite its short occupation by vermin.

A soft step sounded, and Alejandro looked up to see Felipe emerge from the sitting room, broom held at the ready. The young man's expressive face broke into a wide smile as he quickly walked forwards. Relieved to see Felipe unharmed, Alejandro folded the slender youth into a tight embrace.

"Everything is quite a mess, is it not?" the don mused as he released his ward. "A shame the Emissary is such an atrocious house guest."

Felipe grinned, eyes twinkling as he sketched a quick Z into the air.

"Yes," Alejandro's smile became grimmer, his teeth bared like a wolf's. "Emissary Risendo may have mentioned the encounter." Dark brown eyes glittered with secret amusement. "It would make an excellent story for the newspaper. A pity Diego isn't here. But he had to leave..."

Felipe's waving palm forestalled him. The young man quickly pointed back toward the sitting room.

"Diego _is_ here? How? I thought he rode to speak with my friend the lawyer. He was not supposed to be back for several days."

The slender young man mimed riding a horse and patted himself on the chest, then pointed to the study once more.

"You rode out after him?" Alejandro guessed, still not as familiar with Felipe's hand motions as Diego. He supposed he had guessed correctly from the triumphant grin that stretched his young friend's lips.

"Well done, Felipe," Alejandro said warmly, squeezing the young man's shoulder. He did not point out that Felipe should have had no knowledge of Diego's trip, allowing the youth to keep up pretenses.

Stepping past Felipe then, Alejandro strode into the doorway of the sitting room. Diego _was _there, and the father breathed a sigh of relief. His son was well. He was unharmed. The sigh of relief turned quickly to a smirk. His son was well, unharmed, and had single-handedly ousted the Emissary from their home. Well, perhaps not completely single-handedly. Alejandro was sure that Felipe had assisted him.

Diego was kneeling, large hands gathering the broken pieces of a vase.

"Ah, Diego!" Alejandro called delightedly. He knew that his son would already know everything that had happened in the plaza, but appearances must be preserved. "So Felipe fetched you home. I'm glad you're back." The _caballero_ stepped into the room, wondering slightly at his son's silence. "Did Felipe tell you how Zorro evicted our unwelcome house guests?"

Did he imagine it, or did his son's shoulders stiffen? No...now that he observed Diego more closely, the tall man's frame _radiated_ tension...

"Diego?" Alejandro noticed that his son was still picking up the pieces of that same vase. It had been one that the younger man had made himself. Not his best work, perhaps, but at the time he had only been a child. As Alejandro recalled, it had been a gift for Elena... "Diego, did Felipe...?"

"Yes." The single syllable was deadly, tight, and if Alejandro was not mistaken, gritted between clenched teeth.

To say that the older man was taken aback would be to make an understatement of monumental proportions. Shocked, would be more accurate. Alejandro stared at his son's broad back, noting for the first time how rigid the spine was.

Something in the silence must have warned Diego that he was behaving in a manner that could not coexist with his persona. The tall _caballero _pushed himself to his feet slowly and turned to face his father.

By the time the blue eyes met brown, they were peering through the mask once more. "Yes, Father," Diego said genially. "Felipe told me everything."

Alejandro could not speak for a few moments. He was still too stunned. Seeing that ridiculous smile gracing his son's face once more brought home the realization that this was the first it had appeared since Diego stepped in front of Lt. Hidalgo's pistol. His son was _not_ being careful. It was as though he did not wish to appear foolish and harmless before Risendo. He _wanted_ to be counted as a threat.

_So why do __**I **__get the fool? !_ Alejandro could not help but scowl ever so slightly.

The smile faltered and died as Diego broke eye contact, gaze sweeping over the overturned shambles of their sitting room. "I'm sorry everything is such a mess, Father. I'm afraid that Zorro left us a lot of broken pieces to pick up."

His scowl faded as quickly as it had come. Reaching out, the old don squeezed his son's shoulder. He knew that Diego was apologizing for _his_ actions. He was sorry that their home was damaged. Sorry he had to forfeit the balance of their bank accounts. Sorry a man had been killed...

Alejandro did not believe for one instant De Soto's account of Zorro killing Hidalgo, but he knew that the death of any man would weigh heavily on his child.

"Don't worry, Son. It's all right." _It will be all right, Diego_. Turning to leave, the elder de la Vega glanced once more at the shattered pieces of the vase. Some things could not be recovered, it was true. His stride carried him out of the sitting room and down the hall. A martial light glinted in his eye. They would make their _hacienda_ their home again, and things _would be all right_!

0-0-0-0

Unfortunately, Alejandro neglected to recall that very often, things get worse before they get better.

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**Woohoo! There you go, nice long chapter. Hope it wasn't too confusing, and if it was, feel free to let me know. I love reviews, as I may have mentioned once or twice or every time I post. :) The next chapter should be up in a week! See you all then!**


	8. Life Within the Veil

**Hello everyone...I'm sorry! I know, I know, I'm almost two weeks late. Ouch...sorry. Unfortunately, the only excuse I have is that I've been working a LOT. Like, 7 days a week kind of lot. Lots of work doesn't leave me a lot of creative juices for story writing. :( On the upside, the chapter is extra long. :) **

**Okee dokee, this chapter covers the events in 'Conundrum', so as always if you haven't seen that episode, please watch it now. Course, at this point, I'm kinda assuming that anyone who goes searching for Zorro fanfiction has already memorized large portions of every episode in the series. Maybe that's just me and my beta...**

**Alright, enough of my chatter. Enjoy the chapter!**

**0-0-0-0**

With a yank, Alejandro pulled a weed up by the roots, tossing it to the side. Brown eyes surveyed his flower beds with satisfaction. The California soil could be a challenge sometimes, but coercing beautiful plants into growing was a hobby of the old don's. Now, if only he could find a way to _discourage_ some plant growths...

Finding time on his hands, Alejandro had taken the opportunity to repair some of the damage wreaked on his poor flowers by the heavy boots of the royal guardsmen. Bending back over the plants, the don snorted disdainfully. Were they all raised in barns? Who walked through flowerbeds?

The inside of the house had been largely repaired from the battle that had taken place. Some glass needed to be replaced in the windows yet, but it was liveable, and the weather was clement. Sitting back on his heels, the elder de la Vega wiped a hand across his brow. He could almost imagine that the Emissary had never entered Los Angeles.

Almost, but not quite.

The thudding of hooves startled him, making him rise to his feet. Peering toward the stable, Alejandro saw Felipe slide hastily from the back of his pinto and throw the reins to a startled Miguel. The young man was obviously agitated, and did not turn to offer any reply to the _vaquero's_ questions. Instead, he was already running towards the _hacienda_.

The young man overlooked Don Alejandro where the elder man worked in his garden, quickly entering their home.

He was looking for Diego, that much was obvious. Alejandro's eyes narrowed. What had happened? Something serious. The old don strode forwards, intent on discovering what was afoot.

Entering the _hacienda_ Alejandro called his son's name, but received no reply. The former soldier snorted. They were probably in the sitting room. Posing suspiciously in front of the fireplace. He had yet to examine that mantlepiece...he always meant to whenever he found Diego and Felipe in front of it, but hadn't gotten around to the actual action.

"Diego? Diego..." Stepping around the corner into the sitting room, Alejandro was met with the sight of Felipe standing in front of the fireplace by himself. "Felipe! Just as good. I actually wanted to speak to you."

Dark brows rose in surprise at the older man's words, but Felipe stepped away from the mantle.

Alejandro looked hard into the young man's eyes. "Now, what's wrong? I know that something has happened; I saw you arrive. What is it?"

Felipe slowly went through a series of hand motions, often repeating one for Alejandro's benefit, his agitation obvious. Once he comprehended the message, Alejandro could understand why. He felt a little agitated himself.

"He _arrested_ Victoria? ! He's taking her to face the Inquisitor General? !" That blackguard! That miserable excuse for a man!

Brown eyes blazed with fierceness. There was a time and place for keeping his temper, and conversely, there was a time and place to unleash his wrath on the cur that would _dare..._! Taking a deep breath, Alejandro ground his teeth together smartly. "Come on. I'm not going to let him get away with this."

No doubt Felipe had already informed Diego of what had transpired, or he would not be so eager to accompany the elder de la Vega. Alejandro strode towards the stables with a quick, impatient step, dark eyes burning. The Emissary would regret his actions...oh yes, he would.

0-0-0-0

Pulling back on Dulcinea's reins, Alejandro slid from his saddle and looped the leather straps around the hitching post in front of the Alcalde's office. The old man threw back his shoulders and marched to the door. His gloved fist was raised to pound on the wooden panel, but before he could make contact, it swung open and Victoria flounced out, indignant and irate. Head turned to hurl a scathing insult at the Alcalde, she did not see Alejandro and plowed into his chest.

His shock at seeing her almost prevented the old soldier from catching the señorita before she sent them both sprawling. Regaining his balance quickly, Alejandro seized her arms, keeping her from tumbling into the dust. "Victoria!"

"Don Alejandro!" Victoria quickly pulled back, her face still flushed with anger. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you?"

"Not at all," he managed to stammer. "But...I..." Looking back over his shoulder at Felipe, the don saw the young man also staring at the tavern owner with wide eyes. Catching Alejandro's eye, he raised both palms in bewilderment.

"Don Alejandro?" Victoria glanced between him and Felipe, curiosity getting the better of her ire for the moment. "Is something wrong?"

Oh yes. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Alejandro felt his mouth tighten into a grim line. Obviously having Victoria arrested was a ruse...bait for a fox trap. "Victoria, I heard that you were in trouble..."

The petite woman glowered. "Not as much trouble as the Alcalde will be in if he thinks he is going to get another _centavo_ of taxes on _my_ tavern just because the owner is a woman!"

Eyebrows rose up to his graying hairline. "What?"

"That's what he called me into his office for," she huffed. "Called? Oh no, that would be civilized. He had me _marched_ over here like some kind of criminal, Don Alejandro! To inform me that because of some law written years ago, I am expected to fill out paperwork proving my right to own the tavern

because a male relative passed it down to me, or I must pay more taxes!"

Alejandro swallowed hard past the fear that rose suddenly in his chest. The Alcalde was facing death in a matter of days and he was worried about taxes? No, this was something else. Something else entirely. This was a trap for Zorro, and it had the Emissary's fingerprints all over it. De Soto knew by now that harassing Victoria to get at Zorro was a recipe for disaster. His son was being lured into a snare...

As if to underscore his realization, the fierce whinny of a horse broke the air. Alejandro's head jerked toward it, even as his heart sank with a thud into his boots. Yes, there was the horse. A magnificent black stallion. Surrounded by royal guardsmen.

Victoria gasped and clutched at his arm. "Don Alejandro... that is Tornado!"

He could not reply. His dread was too thick. It choked his throat until he thought that he could not pull air into his lungs. Where was Tornado's rider? Where was Zorro? A quick glance told him that the guardsmen had no captive...and a more fearful one revealed that there were no bodies carried with them. For small graces, he could at least be thankful. His son was alive, but where _was _he? Perhaps he _wasn't_ alive...perhaps they had left the body out in the desert to rot...

A crowd had gathered by now, the farmers pushing around Alejandro and Victoria with wide, fearful eyes as they saw Zorro's faithful steed dragged into the cuartel.

"Lock him in!" The Emissary bellowed, voice sharp with anger. "Zorro will be coming for him, I guarantee it."

The tight band that had cinched itself around his chest eased, slightly. Zorro had apparently escaped the encounter with no serious injury, if Risendo was so sure he would...

Emissary Risendo turned suddenly, allowing Alejandro to see his face clearly for the first time.

"HA!"

The bark of laughter broke from the old don before he could stop it. Traced on the Emissary's face the red lines clearly visible and painful looking, was a Z.

"Who was that? !" Risendo roared, cold eyes sweeping those gathered.

The farmers closest to him cast the former soldier surreptitious looks, but none pointed him out. Other snickers were now sounding from various corners of the plaza; causing the Emissary to cast a furious look at all before pushing his way through to the Alcalde's office. The heavy door closed with a bang, and laughter rang out from the crowd.

None laughed quite so hard as the elder de la Vega. His son was all right. Collecting himself, Alejandro placed an arm about Victoria's shoulders and walked with her towards the tavern. He did not have to look to know that Felipe was already mounting his pinto to ride back to the _hacienda. _No doubt to meet up with Diego.

The don settled himself at a table on the small walkway. "Victoria, I think that I would like some coffee, _por favor_." Unless he was very much mistaken, his son would be arriving soon. He would wait here for him.

0-0-0-0

Alejandro nodded graciously at Victoria as she collected the plates from the de la Vega's table. She was still flushed with temper from her encounter with the Alcalde, but she smiled sweetly at the old don.

For once, Diego did not seem to be noticeably distracted by the presence of the pretty _señorita_. Instead, he was brooding; blue eyes glancing back over his shoulder every so often, as though he could hear the call of the stallion imprisoned on the opposite side of the plaza.

Alejandro shook his head, rapping the table to garner his son's attention. "Something will need to be done about the Emissary. Soon. He can't be allowed to stay here and wreak havoc on our pueblo."

His son's gaze snapped back to him sharply. Alejandro met the suddenly narrowed blue eyes with a bland smile.

"Father," Diego's tone was low, brows drawn together. "You can't be thinking of leading an uprising."

Alejandro simply shrugged and smiled just a little wider, his brown eyes remaining cold. In his mind, he was already planning the strategic placement of arms and munitions necessary to overthrow the skill of the guardsmen. The tricky part would be garnering support from the inhabitants of the pueblo without attracting attention from Risendo. However, if Zorro were to endorse such a plan...

Diego sighed in frustration. Clearly, he could tell what his father was thinking. Well, Alejandro had not had the years of practice his son had in constructing a mask to hide his true intentions.

"Sooner or later Emissary Risendo must return to Madrid," Diego protested, tapping the table for emphasis. "We only need to be patient."

He might have sounded more convincing if his words did not have the ring of a man trying to persuade _himself. _

"Why Diego?" Alejandro pressed his position doggedly, even though he could see the stubborn, mulish side of his son barricading all avenues through the man's ears. Diego would not listen, but Alejandro could not help continuing on. "The man is a walking pestilence. I say we drive him out! He's a disgrace!"

His son shook his head, refusing to concede...and yet Alejandro could sense that he was closer to agreeing than ever before.

The tavern door swung inwards, bringing Diego's head up once more. All eyes in the establishment swung towards the portal in the passing interest of knowing who was entering. Most moved swiftly away once more as they registered Emissary Risendo's trim frame striding into the coolness of the adobe building.

"Ah! Don Diego, Don Alejandro." The man's tone was friendly as he moved purposefully towards their table. For some reason, the fable of the crocodile and the rabbit began to retell itself within the corners of Alejandro's mind. Looking into the Emissary's smiling face he nodded decisively to himself. Yes...yes, he could see the resemblance. Toothy smile, appetite for innocent flesh...Risendo was the human incarnation of the crocodile, though perhaps a _bit_ more accountable for his actions.

"Speak of the devil," Diego muttered under his breath, long fingers suddenly curling in towards his palm.

"I am _so_ glad I found you," the Emissary said genially, his features composed into as pleasant an expression as was possible. "I wanted to _apologize_ to you both for my rather...ill considered seizure of your property."

Alejandro dared a quick glance at his son to see if the younger man was buying this tripe. The icy glint in Diego's gaze quickly reassured him that his son was unconvinced. The old don's eyes returned to Risendo's face, his own features set in a stone like mask that barely bordered on civil.

"You see, this is my first imperial appointment and in my eagerness to please his majesty, I clearly overstepped my authority."

"That, _señor_," Diego said quietly as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, "depends on whether such recklessness repeats itself." He did not speak angrily, nor hotly, but one would be a fool to miss the fact that Diego bore the Emissary no good will. Blue eyes quickly turned from the Emissary and found his father's gaze. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do. Felipe?"

The mute young man rose to his feet and strode towards the doorway with Diego. Alejandro saw his son place a hand on Felipe's shoulder as he glanced back, his gaze shooting fire at the back of Don Gilberto's head. His lips moved, but Alejandro couldn't hear what he said. Before he too could rise, the king's man slid into the seat Diego had just vacated.

"I can hardly blame him for being so hostile," Risendo said, still smiling genially. The bonhomie he exuded was so falsely sweet the elder de la Vega feared he should choke on if he remained much longer.

A smile creased the old don's face, but it stopped far short of his eyes. "Neither can I," he said quietly, raising his glass and draining it. Risendo opened his mouth as though he wished to continue a conversation, but Alejandro was far from interested. "_Adios_ _señor_ ." The elder de la Vega pushed himself to his feet as his son had done, and strode towards the door. Diego should be proud of him. He had been civil, and he had restrained himself from flinging the remnants of his lemonade into the Emissary's face. Perhaps he was learning to control his temper after all.

"Don Alejandro!"

Risendo's voice reached him before he had made it to the door. He supposed that he could not pretend that he had not heard. "Talk to me, sir." Talk quickly. He turned, preparing himself to endure whatever poisonous words came from under the Emissary's thin mustache.

Don Gilberto appeared to be bending to pluck something from the floorboards. A piece of folded parchment. "This was on the floor, _señor_, does it belong to you?"

"I don't think so," Alejandro quickly patted his vest, feeling the reassuring crinkle of the list of supplies he was planning to purchase. Perhaps it was Diego's? That _was_ where his son had been sitting after all. "But..." better to be safe than sorry. He did not think his son would be so abysmally stupid as to write down anything that could implicate himself as the man who's horse was now tearing apart the cuartel, but... he unfolded the parchment, brown eyes quickly catching the familiar slant and curvature of the letters before he took in their meaning. "Well, it's my son's handwriting. A letter to the governor..." The old don's voice trailed off as he digested the words that were written before him in his son's hand. Shock robbed him of speech for a few moments. This was...so obviously false, he did not know if he should laugh or fly into a towering rage.

A presence at his elbow and a small hand's touch made him glance to the side to see Victoria's concerned face. "Is something wrong, Don Alejandro?" She must have picked up on his tension. Years of serving patrons in her establishment had allowed the petite woman to develop a knack for reading body language.

"I don't know, Victoria," he answered, eyes going back to the paper in his hands. "A letter to the governor from Diego, informing him that I have grown mentally incompetent," Alejandro did look up then, his brown eyes resting on the Emissary. "and that I'm incapable of handling my own affairs." He could see that smile; that nasty, sneaky smile hiding in the corner of Risendo's mouth. Why did the man despise the de la Vegas so?

"Good heavens," Risendo gasped, unable to completely disguise the gloating note in his tone. "How perfidious!"

His acting was so appalling that Alejandro felt the strangest desire to laugh. _Never lose your appointment as Emissary, Don Gilberto. Traveling performers will not be able to make use of your notable lack of talent._

Small hands pulled the letter away as Victoria's dark eyes quickly scanned the rest of the missive. "He asks the governor to name him administrator of your estate?" Disbelief was obvious in the tone of her voice. Her gaze rested on the Emissary for a moment before eyes narrowed slightly. "I wouldn't worry, Don Alejandro," Victoria said firmly. "Don Diego would _never_ do such a thing." The tavern owner handed him back the false document, earning herself a fatherly smile. He _was_ proud of her. Proud and pleased that even she, who never seemed to notice Diego, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his son was above such deception.

"He wouldn't, Victoria," Alejandro replied, assuring her that he also held no illusions as to the veracity of the paper he held in his hand. "And he _didn't._"

As Victoria moved away to tend to her other patrons, Don Gilberto swallowed hard, gloved hands flexing nervously. "Didn't you say that was your son's handwriting?" he pressed, gesturing toward the letter Alejandro held.

"Mmmm." The old don nodded and shrugged in seeming nonchalance. "It appears to be," he admitted. "But as you might know, sometimes the difference between reality and appearance..." Alejandro broke off with a chuckle and a smile. There was little mirth in the sound.

Risendo rose to his feet, agitated. "_This_ certainly seems real enough," he insisted, eyebrows drawing together.

"No, sir," Alejandro snapped, voice suddenly harsh. His temper was rising suddenly, but he controlled himself, clamping teeth together and grinding his words through them. "I trust my life to my son." The truth of the statement brought unexpected calm in its wake. Alejandro drew a deep breath and felt his temper recede. Why should he be angered by this pitiful attack? It was so ridiculous...so unfounded... The old don met Risendo's gaze steadily, observing the man. "Perhaps you don't understand that since you don't have children, _señor_." Brown eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Tell me about your father." He saw the stiffening of the younger man's posture, the sudden closed look that drew his features into a blank mask. It reminded him of Diego. "Don't you love him?"

"I never knew my father," the Emissary said stiffly. "Until...recently." His mouth twitched, as though a sneer was trying to break through, but he couldn't quite put the heart behind it.

To Alejandro's surprise, a wave of pity rose in his heart. So Don Gilberto was the son of one of _those _men. The nobles who took their pleasure where they found it, regardless of vows spoken to their wives or the women they professed to love. The unfortunate children of such men were either ignored completely, or provided an education with the understanding that they should not inconvenience their selfish parent any more than they already had with their unplanned birth. He could understand the younger man's sneering at familial love, even if he did not comprehend why Risendo should seek to attack the de la Vegas particularly.

And he _had _attacked them. The letter in his hand reminded Alejandro of the fact. The old don faced his antagonist calmly, surprised to find that his anger was surpassed by the unexpected pity. "That's unfortunate," he said quietly. Sincerely. It _was_ unfortunate. He could honestly say that he would never wish such an unpleasant beginning on a child. Moreover, he was absolutely certain that Risendo's delinquent parent was a large force in shaping the bitter, malicious man who stood before him.

He could pity such neglect. But he could _not_ forgive the attack on his own son. Alejandro's face became stern, his tone hard. "However, the bond between _this_ father and his son is not so _easily_ broken, with a letter which is obviously a _fake_." The last word was bitten out, forced between his teeth as his temper simmered beneath his calm. Alejandro took a deep breath. _Be still, Alejandro. Control._ "Whoever forged this was very skilled," he continued, "But not skilled enough to look into my son's heart." Fierce, unshakeable pride rose in Alejandro's heart, drowning anger. His son would never betray him. His son loved him, as the Emissary was apparently incapable of understanding. There was a joy, in that knowledge. Whether or not his son would ever reveal all of his secrets, he loved his father, unquestionably. Why else would he have taken the abuse that Alejandro had been so adept at handing him? "I'm going to show it to him." Alejandro chuckled once more, a smile creasing his face. "This is going to give him a good laugh, like it did me." Alejandro folded the paper once more, cheerfully noting that Risendo's face had taken on the stillness of marble. He was still trying to sneer, but he couldn't manage it. Not in the face of Alejandro's mirth. "Emissary," the elder de la Vega saluted him with the folded forgery, his smile easy and unforced. "_Adios._"

Turning once more the former soldier strode through the door, his shoulders back, posture straight. A curious sensation made the corners of his lips pull back even further until he was grinning widely. He had not lost his temper. The Emissary could not _make_ him lose control. Stopping beside Dulcinea, Alejandro stroked her nose for a moment as he thrust the letter into his vest pocket.

"So, do you think Diego will be proud of me?" Alejandro murmured to the mare, chuckling as she bumped him in the chest. Sticking his boot into the stirrup, the don mounted in a single fluid motion and squeezed his knees, urging Dulcinea forward. The headstrong mount needed little encouragement and was soon picking up her feet and tossing her head, longing for more speed.

Alejandro gave her the signal she needed and laughed aloud as she leapt forward.

As the mare's hooves pounded against the earth, Alejandro felt his mood become more pensive. He did have to tell Diego what had happened, and the don knew that his son would not be pleased.

Dark eyebrows drew together over brown eyes as his mouth flattened into a grim line. As pleased as he was with the way he had handled the situation, the fact remained that Risendo had mounted a direct attack against the de la Vegas.

He could not let that pass.

0-0-0-0

"Diego!" Throwing back the door of his _hacienda, _Alejandro strode into the hall, eyes dark with purpose. Amazing how he had never noticed before how his voice echoed through his home. It had been many weeks since he had marched through the halls of the _hacienda_, bellowing Diego's name.

His quick, impatient stride carried him to the door of the sitting room and the sight of his son leaning innocently against the mantlepiece. "Father?"

Without a word, Alejandro thrust the letter Risendo had given him into his offspring's broad chest. The old man watched his son's face drift into a mask of bemusement as he took the proffered parchment and unfolded it. Crossing his arms, Alejandro observed Diego closely.

There.

The blue eyes widened in shock, jaw dropping slightly. Dark eyebrows began an ascent towards the the younger man's hairline as he took in the message of the forged words. Diego gasped, and looked up, meeting his father's penetrating gaze. "Father," he said quietly, almost desperately. "You can not believe that _I_...that I would _ever_..."

Alejandro felt his own grim features relax into a smile. "No, Diego." Any small, niggling doubts he had were laid to rest. The fear in his son's tone was proof enough for him. "I know that you would never resort to such..._perfidious_...means of seizing your own inheritance." The old don clapped a reassuring hand on Diego's shoulder before turning away and busying himself with the decanter of brandy that rested on a side table. The amber liquid splashed neatly into two glasses under Alejandro's watchful eye. Diego did not drink very often, but the elder man had a feeling that this might be one of the times when something was needed. "Besides," he said casually, replacing the stopper, "that paper was given to me by Emissary Risendo, right after his rather transparent attempt to be pleasant. You were completely right, by the way." the old don lifted one glass and held it thoughtfully. "The man has some kind of grudge against us, but the question is...why?"

Alejandro turned, glasses in hand, ready to make some slighting comment on the Emissary's skills as an actor.

The words died in his throat.

Silence stretched between the two men, broken only by the rustle of paper as the Emissary's forged letter was reduced to a crumpled wad in Diego's large hand. He seemed almost unaware of his surroundings, blue eyes blazing with a fire that threatened to burn holes in the wall. The tall _caballero's _frame was rigid; unyielding.

Without a word, Alejandro set the glasses back down. Stepping forward, he laid a gentle hand on his son's arm. "Diego?" Muscles beneath his palm trembled with restrained fury. The fraudulent letter was rapidly being reduced to a pulp as the tall man's fingers flexed.

At the touch of Alejandro's hand, Diego started, eyes swinging to meet his father's gaze.

_Oh Diego. _Alejandro met his son's eyes calmly. For once, he felt sure that he completely and totally understood his son. Rage flamed with cold fire in those blue eyes. Rage...and overwhelming frustration. The torture of holding oneself in check, when he longed to vent his wrath.

Oh yes. _This _he understood all too well. Even as his brows drew together in concern, a small part of Alejandro rejoiced. A sense of kinship; of camaraderie overcame him in a way he had not felt for a very long time. His son...his son had a temper! His son had _his_ temper. The hot blood of the de la Vega's flowed in Diego's veins.

"Diego," he said quietly, gripping the tall man's arm with a strong hand. "My son, the Emissary's fraud is not worth losing your control."

The ironic twist of fate that allowed Alejandro to counsel his son in keeping his temper struck both men at the same time.

A chuckle escaped the father as a derisive snort issued from the son. Meeting Diego's eyes, Alejandro saw the indignant expression there and felt his mirth grow. Oh, for the student to lecture the teacher was sweet indeed! Unable to help himself, the former soldier gave in to his glee until he was leaning against Diego and gasping for breath around shouts of laughter. He couldn't stop! If the situation itself was not hilarity all on its own, the expression on Diego's _face_ as he received a lecture in keeping his temper from his _father_ undid Alejandro completely.

The tension surrounding the young _caballero_ broke as the elder's chuckles filled the air. And if he did not join his parent's mirth, he managed to smile ruefully, acknowledging himself to be at a disadvantage.

"Oh Diego," Alejandro finally gasped, wiping away tears. "I'm sorry, Son, truly." The apology might have meant a little more if he hadn't been still snickering, but his son merely rolled his eyes. Lifting the two glasses once more, Alejandro pushed one into Diego's hand. "Here." The former soldier smiled as he straightened his spine and held his glass up. "To my son. Whom I trust with my life."

Diego hesitated slightly, but hearing Alejandro's toast, a softness crept into his eyes. The younger _caballero_ also lifted his glass, and touched it gently to his father's. "To you, Father. For your faith in me." The words were quiet, sincere...and bitter.

The elder de la Vega cocked a dark eyebrow at the echo of bitterness, curious. Diego threw his glass back and Alejandro's brow raised a little further. Despite the breaking of tension there was something still far wrong in Diego's world. And as much as it pained him, the old don could not take the worries from his son's shoulders, nor force a confidence. All he could do was wait.

0-0-0-0

He hardly knew what he said to his father, or how Alejandro responded. A cloud of shock had obscured his senses when he read the forged letter. Shock was swiftly followed by fear. If his father actually believed that this had originated from _him..._

Alejandro's faith in him wracked the younger man with guilt. Why _should_ his father trust him so implicitly? He had done nothing but deceive him for years. And yet, the faith was there. He did not believe that Diego would commit such subterfuge. Did not even entertain the thought.

The revelation of how Alejandro had come by the poisonous forgery burned away what little of his sensibilities that remained.

Rage, white hot and searing swirled inside Diego like a chaotic maelstrom. That evil, loathsome, foul cockroach! How dare he! How _dare_ he try to rend the relationship between the de la Vegas!

His father's laughter broke some of the tension that flowed through him, but the anger was still there; simmering beneath the surface of his mind.

Diego threw back the glass his father had given him, feeling the bite of the liquor as it flowed down his throat. Not what he needed to keep a cool head, but for the moment he did not care. What did it matter if he kept his temper or released it? Why should _he_ have to control himself _every waking moment..._

Alejandro patted his son's arm gently before leaving him to his own devices. The rational part of Diego's brain that still remained noted that his father's face was worried, but reason was quickly being drowned out by the clamoring of his temper.

The tall man set down his glass and glared at the crumpled ball of parchment in his hand. Stuffing the falsified letter into his pocket, he touched the switch hidden in the mantlepiece, ducking into the secret door. He was tired. Tired of the charade he was forced to keep up. Tired of the evil men who seemed _drawn_ to Los Angeles. Tired of continually passing over his own hopes and dreams because he must maintain the persona he had created! Tired of having everyone in the pueblo deride him because he was _just_ Diego! Just the _caballero_ who wrote poetry; nothing compared to _Zorro_.

He had born the outright scorn and indifference for _years_. Years! All because there were men like the Alcalde Luis Ramone who would _never_ change his treacherous, grasping ways. Men like De Soto, who leapt first without thinking, and would have ruled Los Angeles with an iron fist. Men like the Emissary, Gilberto Risendo.

Who had targeted the de la Vega's from the moment he had stepped into Los Angeles.

And now Diego must go out and fight him as Zorro, because Diego de la Vega would never be moved enough to confront the man, even on behalf of his own family!

A red haze seemed to sweep across Diego's vision as he stepped into Zorro's cavern. He was trapped...trapped in a cage of his own making. This was his life. A life half lived, because it must be lived within the veil of Zorro's mask!

Years of control crumbled under the onslaught of the terrible wrath that exploded within him.

0-0-0-0

Felipe leaned against the rock wall of Tornado's stall, awaiting Diego. They had been about to descend into the cave when Alejandro's voice was heard calling through the _hacienda_. With a quick grin, Diego had sent the young man ahead of him, indicating that he would follow shortly.

The echo of feet brought Felipe's attention toward the door. Diego appeared at the base of the small, stone staircase leading into the _hacienda_. The young man smiled, anticipating an answering expression would appear on Diego's handsome face, smoothing away the black glower that was present.

But the older man did not even seem to be aware of Felipe's presence. Blue eyes stared straight ahead, glaring at the cave wall with such intensity that it was a wonder the rock did not melt. Two long strides carried the tall man to his laboratory table. Without batting an eye, in a movement of such grace it almost belied the violence, the _caballero_ sent everything that was within his reach flying.

Felipe stood shocked. So shocked, that it took him several moments to realize that Diego was not finished.

Glass and pottery beakers shattered against the rock walls. Liquids splattered and powders made the air hazy as Diego continued his destruction of Zorro's cave.

Felipe shrank back into Tornado's stall, brown eyes widening further and further as he observed his mentor descending into what could only be described as total madness. Or total rage.

Yes..._that's_ what it was. The deadly fire burning those blue eyes was not insanity, but wrath.

The young man stared, horror stricken, seized with the sudden urge to find somewhere to hide until Diego's outburst had worn itself out. He had never feared Diego before; who would? Who would fear intelligence, courage and kindness? At this moment, however, it was brought home to him why outlaws fled from Zorro. Diego was a large, powerful man in possession of deadly skills. A master of self control, Felipe had rarely even seen the older man piqued, but this...

Diego had lost all semblance of control. Given free reign at long last, his temper was a wild, angry beast; maliciously joyful to be released from the fetters that had bound it for years.

With a heave, Diego overturned the heavy oak table on which (until seconds ago) his various experiments rested. The tall man finally stood still, chest heaving with exertion. Thought he seemed to have regained some modicum of control, Felipe did not approach the _caballero_. Those blue eyes blazed with cold fire still, and the large hands were opening and closing into fists. Not satisfied with the destruction they had wrought, they wished for more...more items to break...perhaps someone's throat would fill the grasping hands nicely...

No, the young man did not move. He hardly dared to breath, lest he attract the attention of this savage individual. For he could not think of this as Diego. This was a stranger.

The blue eyes swept over the chaotic remains of Diego's laboratory, the fierceness in them making Felipe shrink back against the unyielding surface of Tornado's stall. He did _not_ want to be noticed!

But the eyes did not seem to register his presence. Instead, they fastened on one of the few items _not_ destroyed. Zorro's disguise. To the young man's growing alarm, a look of black hatred creased Diego's handsome face. He stepped forwards, hands outstretched and Felipe realized that the older man meant to destroy Zorro's clothes.

He did not know what madness had seized his friend_,_ but Felipe could not allow him to continue! Pushing the door of the stall open, the youth leapt forwards. His lean, brown hand closed around Diego's wrist just as the older man caught hold of Zorro's shirt.

Furious to be interrupted in its destructive, triumphal escape, Diego's temper flared wildly, turning on Felipe with a speed that marked him as an expert swordsman.

But Felipe had anticipated this. The young man released his hold with alacrity, backing up with hands raised. His body was tense, muscles quivering for action should Diego attempt to attack him.

Recognition seeped back into the deadly fire of that gaze, dousing the flames. "Felipe?"

Felipe nodded warily, still keeping his distance.

The blue eyes were swiftly returning to normal, the beast caged once more. Diego's gaze flickered around the caved and a wince creased his features. "Felipe...I am so sorry." the older man drew in a deep breath and released it, shaking slightly in the aftermath of his loss of control. Leaning against the wall of the cavern, Diego allowed his knees to buckle and slid to a sitting position on the floor. The _caballero_ raked a hand through his dark hair before dragging it over his face. "I am sorry, Felipe. I..." Diego struggled for words for a few moments, trying to find a suitable explanation for his actions. With a grimace, he abandoned the attempt, burying his face in his hands.

Felipe approached the older man and knelt beside him, gently placing a lean hand on his friend's shoulder. To his shock, he could still feel the muscles trembling with rage yet unspent. What had happened? Diego had been angry at himself for falling into Risendo's trap, but when Felipe had left him upstairs to speak with Don Alejandro he had actually been in a rather genial mood...

Had Don Alejandro said something to upset him?

If that were the case, what on earth could he have said to produce such an outburst? !

0-0-0-0

He was still angry. Furious, really. But he had to pull himself together. No doubt Felipe was already questioning his sanity.

Diego took a deep breath and put his hands on his knees, pushing himself back up onto his feet. The young man rose too, brown eyes still wary and troubled. Felipe's gaze was focused on the older man, surveying him critically and intently. Could his ward actually detect mental instability if he looked hard enough? Perhaps he should don Zorro's mask quickly...

The thought brought a rueful, self deprecatory smile to the tall man's handsome face, but it was a smile nonetheless. Seeing it, Felipe allowed the corners of his own mouth to turn up in relief.

Unfortunately, the young man's relief was of short duration.

The moment Diego reached for Zorro's clothes once more, he found his wrist seized and Felipe's brown eyes wide.

"It's all right," he said as calmly as he could. "I'm not going to harm Zorro's costume, Felipe. But if I am to rescue Tornado, it would be best if I looked the part." Diego attempted to pull his hand away, dark eyebrows raising when Felipe did not relinquish his hold.

The young man shook his head violently, free hand gesticulating so quickly that the older man could only discern his meaning with difficulty.

"You...you don't think that I should go?" The shock in his voice could only be surpassed by the expression on his face. What was Felipe thinking of? He _had_ to go. He would _not_ leave Tornado in the hands of that miserable miscreant one second longer than it took for him to arrive in the pueblo!

Diego pulled his hand free, brows drawing together. "I'll be fine, Felipe." His voice was short; clipped. Ignoring the worried way his young charge chewed his bottom lip, Diego quickly stripped himself of jacket and ruffled shirt. As he reached for Zorro's mask, an involuntary shudder made him scowl.

Movements slow and deliberate, Diego tied the mask into place. His normally cheerful countenance was grim. Beneath his mustache, lips pressed together in a unyielding line. A muscle was ticking in his jaw.

He would deal with Risendo. Blue eyes swept the chaotic remains of his laboratory and fell upon Felipe. A twinge of guilt pricked him sharply. How must his actions have looked to the young man? Like the person he respected had gone mad, no doubt. The concern in Felipe's expressive face made the guilt even stronger.

"Don't worry, _amigo_," he said, as reassuringly as he could. Forcing a smile at that moment was one of the harder things he had ever done, but he managed to make the corners of his lips twitch at the very least. "I'll be fine."

An eyebrow crawled up Felipe's forehead, perching at a skeptical angle on the younger man's brow.

"Truly." He felt as though his jaw had seized into a clamped position with his attempts to smile. The _caballero _donned the rest of Zorro's accoutrements quickly, avoiding Felipe's eyes. Pulling gloves into place, he stepped towards the exit. For a brief moment he paused, wincing as he thought of the destruction he had wreaked. "Leave the mess, Felipe," he said quietly. "I'll take care of it when I return."

0-0-0-0

Watching his mentor leave, Felipe pushed both hands through thick hair. This was not good. Not good at all. Brown eyes flickered around the cavern, taking in the destruction. If Diego had lost control to this extent, he shouldn't be riding out as Zorro. Hadn't he _always_ said that an angry man was the loser in a fight? An angry man wasn't careful...wasn't cautious...and Zorro's life depended upon his ability to rein his temper in tightly and keep a cool head.

Forehead wrinkled in concern, the young man slowly began sweeping up the broken glass that littered the floor. He knew that Diego had told him to leave the mess, but he needed a task to occupy his thoughts.

The _caballero's_ clothes lay in a rumpled heap on the ground. Unusual for Diego, but then, nothing that had happened this afternoon was exactly an everyday occurrence. Clothing on the ground instead of neatly hung was by far the least unusual event in the last incredibly bizarre twenty minutes. As the young man bent and scooped them up, a crumpled ball of paper fell from the pocket and rolled across the floor.

Curious, Felipe retrieved it. Flattening the letter took time. Reading it took longer; the paper was creased and in places torn.

Once he had read it, the words were forever branded into his brain. The venomous epistle shook in his hands, and suddenly Felipe knew what had pushed his mentor over the edge into a raging frenzy. That the words _were_ false, Felipe had no doubt. No one who knew Diego at all could believe that the younger de la Vega would ever write something so sneaking and underhanded. But Diego _had_ told his ward of his suspicions that Risendo was holding a grudge against the de la Vegas.

The young man had no idea whether or not the king's Emissary had indeed forged the letter he was holding. But with sick certainty, he was absolutely sure that that was what _Diego_ believed.

Felipe slowly sank to the floor, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. Diego had gone to rescue Tornado; to face Risendo with violence and wrath in his heart. Suddenly he was afraid as he never had been before. He had always been sure that Diego would come home because he was Zorro, and Zorro could come to no harm.

Eyes closed and hands clasped together, the young man prayed desperately for Diego's safe return.

0-0-0-0

The time passed slowly for Felipe. Never before had seconds dragged their protesting feet into minutes with such reluctance. Trying to occupy his mind, the young man proceeded to put to rights Zorro's cave. After the glass and pottery was swept up, he had righted the oak table with difficulty. The weight of that particular piece of furniture surprised Felipe, bringing home to him once more that his mentor was...dangerous. Diego had nearly thrown the furnishing that took Felipe several minutes of struggling to lift back into place.

Brown eyes swept the cavern critically. With the damaged trappings removed, and the absence of bubbling experiments, Zorro's 'home' looked rather forlorn. Felipe leaned his hip against the desk and crossed his arms over his narrow chest, trying to keep from tapping his fingers in agitation. Where was Diego? What could possibly be taking so long?

Perhaps he had not succeeded...

The young man thrust the thought violently from his mind almost before it had formed, ignoring the trail of panic left in its wake. He could not believe for an instant that Zorro would not return. That _Diego_ would not return. That his friend, mentor..._father _was gone...

The whir of ropes startled him from his semi-trance, making his heart leap from chest to throat. The secret door! It was opening! Felipe could not have halted the broad grin that creased his face any more than he could move the sun backwards across the sky.

The black nose of Tornado appeared as Felipe leapt forwards, yanking the stable door open. The young man seized Tornado's bridle, stroking the strong, muscled neck as Tornado butted his head against Felipe's chest.

Relief nearly made him weak as he looked up, expressive face unable to hide his delight in seeing Diego safely back...

The smile took on a frozen quality as his brown eyes took in the older man's slumped posture. Diego wasn't even holding the reins. Instead, his left hand was gripping his right arm tightly, and the black cloth of Zorro's shirt was wet. Dread clutched Felipe's heart with cold, cruel fingers, thrusting it back down past the position it was supposed to occupy and landing the susceptible organ with a thud into the pit of the young man's stomach.

Diego stirred, his head lifting. The older man attempted a smile, but Felipe was struck with horror at the pallor of the _caballero's_ face. Swinging one leg behind himself, Diego attempted to dismount.

He stumbled.

Unable to hold himself upright, he would have fallen if Felipe had not caught him. The young man quickly wrapped an arm around his mentor's waist; pulling Diego's left arm over his narrow shoulders and taking the older man's weight as much as he could. Moving together, the two made an awkward, bumbling passage across the cave until they reached the one chair left undamaged. Felipe hastily hooked his foot through the legs and pulled it out from behind the desk, allowing Diego to sink into it. Once he was off his feet, the tall man pulled away hat and mask, tossing them to the floor heedlessly. His normally tanned face had an ashy gray tone to it that made Felipe afraid. Blue eyes focused on the younger man's stricken features with difficulty.

"Felipe...there is...there is a knife, and bandages..." eyes rolled towards a cabinet against the wall, but Felipe was already moving. His lean fingers shook as he quickly pulled out what was needed, dread clawing at his stomach. He had an idea of what was coming, and he didn't like it one bit...

Turning back towards the older man, items in hand, Felipe saw that Diego had already stripped off his gloves and pulled his shirt over his head.

He should have expected the sharp contrast of red against the white of his friend's skin. He had known that Diego was injured...but the sudden sight of blood struck him as though it were a heavy blow to the face. He felt dizzy, sick with the knowledge that Diego was hurt, and hurt badly.

"Felipe?"

Dark eyebrows were drawn together in confusion over inquisitive blue eyes.

This was not new, Felipe reminded himself sharply. Diego had been injured before. The older man carried many scars from his life as the protector of the pueblo.

He had never been hurt so _badly_ though. The scars he carried were scratches, really. Grazes. This _was_ different.

"Felipe," Diego managed to push himself into a more upright position. "I will need your help."

Felipe swallowed hard, but walked forwards. He set his burden down on the desktop, brown eyes questioning. One lean hand gestured toward the knife, then tapped himself on the chest.

"I shall tell you what to do," Diego managed through teeth clenched tightly. "First...go upstairs, fetch my father's brandy..."

The young man nodded jerkily, biting his lip. He couldn't imagine what kind of pain Diego was going through, and was more than a little anxious for it to be ameliorated. Quick feet carried him up the small stone staircase. Felipe was through the secret doorway before he realized that he had forgotten to check on whether or not Don Alejandro was present. Fortunately, he wasn't. Brown eyes flew around the room. Where was it? The decanter of brandy should have been here, in the sitting room...had Don Alejandro moved it to his study perhaps? He had to find it and get back to Diego...

0-0-0-0

Diego watched Felipe disappear up the stairs and said a quick prayer that his father would not be present in the sitting room. Now, his time was limited. Blue eyes settled on the knife's shining surface as he reached for it with his left hand. Thank heavens he had always kept his blade sharpened to a razor edge. This task would be unpleasant enough without attempting to perform it with a dull blade.

The _caballero_ braced his right arm on the desktop and gripped the knife haft tightly. Blue eyes flickered towards the stairs once more. He knew that Felipe was bothered by his pain; he could not bear the thought of his ward undertaking a task that would be sure to haunt him for a very long time.

Gritting his teeth together, the tall man set knife to flesh...

0-0-0-0

Bottle clasped tightly, Felipe pressed the catch that would make the secret passage open. His feet carried him swiftly through the opening, barely pausing long enough to close it behind him once more. The young man was steeling himself for what he knew must be done, though the thought of it turned his stomach into a large, convoluted knot.

He knew something was wrong the moment he turned the corner. Diego was slumped over the arm of the chair, gripping his wound tightly. The knife lay on the polished wooden surface...

And the blade was dripping blood.

If he could have screamed in frustration, he would have done so. Felipe leapt forwards, thumping the brandy decanter down with such force he was surprised that it did not shatter. The young man quickly seized the linen bandages he had laid out and pushed Diego back against his chair. His hand held a wad of cloth against his wound already, but the cloth was soaked red. Why hadn't he _waited? !_

Felipe pried the older man's hand away, replacing the soaked bandage with a fresh one, and quickly tying it into place with yet another. Diego blinked fuzzily and smiled weakly at his ward as the young man hastily tied off the strip of linen. "Well done, Felipe..."

Felipe glared at him, causing Diego's eyebrows to draw together in confusion. "What...what is wrong?"

The young man gestured angrily at the wound, then at the bloody musket ball and the knife where it lay, still dripping, before slapping himself on the chest.

"I'm sorry," Diego closed his eyes and sighed, face drawn in pain. "I knew that you would not want to..." Blue eyes opened to meet the hot gaze of brown. "I am sorry, Felipe." The words were quiet, sincere.

Humble.

"I should have waited."

As Diego winced again, Felipe frowned, his anger bleeding away. He had the suspicion that the older man was not speaking solely of current events.

Diego dragged a large hand over his face. "I should have waited, _amigo_." A tired, apologetic smile lifted the corners of his mouth, but did not touch his eyes at all. "Forgive me?"

Even as the younger man nodded, he knew that Diego was apologizing for leaving while he was angry. For going to battle in a state of mind that had gotten him injured. He was apologizing for disregarding the advice that could have saved him injury and pain.

He was Diego again. A man that Felipe had always admired, trusted and loved; not only for his courage and kindness, but for the ability to admit when he was wrong.

He was not often wrong, Felipe knew. But there was something...something in the Emissary that triggered the blind, horrible rage the young man had witnessed. Something that might push Diego too far. Something that already _had_ pushed Diego too far. He was taking risks that were unnecessary, and he was not hiding behind the mask that had served him so well for so long.

Felipe gathered up Zorro's bloodstained shirt, his face troubled. A shiver raced down his spine as a premonition tickled his mind. Things were coming to a head between the Emissary and Zorro...

To his dread, the young man knew, with ugly, uncertain clarity, that only one man would survive.

And he had no idea which one it would be.

0-0-0-0

**Okay, there you go! I hope you all liked the chapter and even though I am lowly and wormlike for posting so late, I would still love to read reviews from my prone, and ash-covered position. *smiles hopefully* **

**The next chapter should *crosses fingers and prays like nuts* SHOULD be up within a week. I hope. I will TRY very hard to get it up in a week. **

**Oh, and if I didn't mention it before, I really do love reviews. :)**

**A lot.**


	9. Saved a Wretch

**Late. I know. I'm sorry. By now I know that you have all grown jaded with cynicism at my repeated apologies for tardiness, but I assure you that my chagrin is genuine. :( On the upside, I may finally be getting days off at my job, so I will have a little bit more leisure time to concentrate on story. :)**

**The chapter is not so long this time around, but that is because we are about to get to the part of the story that I have been longing to write pretty much since the inception of this particular tale, and I didn't want to shortchange it by trying to cram everything into one chapter. So this one is short, but the next should be epic. Thank you all for your continued patience and wonderful feedback, particularly those reviewing through the guest feature, as it prevents me from responding personally.**

**Enjoy!**

**0-0-0-0**

The sun was bright; hot, even in the early morning hours. Alejandro could feel Dulcinea chewing contemplatively at the metal bit, considering whether or not she wanted it in her mouth, and if she didn't, exactly how ornery she intended to be about it.

"Come now," he coaxed her soothingly, patting the muscled neck with affection. The don yawned widely as his steed decided to be complacent for once and followed the gentle nudge of his knees. He had stayed at the Alcalde's celebration far too long last night. Another yawn made his jaw pop loudly. He wasn't getting any younger as the years passed, more was the pity. Oh, but to be free of the Emissary; the sudden release of the horrible tension that had gripped the entire pueblo and held its people in a stranglehold for so many days! The _relief..._

Alejandro winced ever so slightly at his own thoughts. Relief...for the death of a man? Had he become so hard? The don stroked his chin thoughtfully, reins lying loosely in one hand. He remembered the one time previously when a man had died because of Zorro. The man had been a villain of the most awful kind, and yet Diego had been distraught. Truly and deeply distressed at the death of the bandit.

A slight scowl creased Alejandro's forehead. "The Emissary's death is no great loss," he muttered. "He was cruel, vicious and evil."

"_He was also a man!"_

Unbidden, Diego's voice echoed in the former soldier's mind; stricken, almost desperate.

Now Alejandro really did scowl. He had his _own_ conscience, thank you very much. He didn't need Diego's lounging around in his head too.

The old don dragged a hand over his face. He had been a soldier. He had taken the lives of other men. It was not an act that should be committed lightly, nor did he find it easy to do so. He had taught his son to value life because of the lives _he _had been ordered to end. Men whom he had never seen before. They may have had families; children who would wait anxiously only to be heart broken when they realized their father would not return. To take the life of a human being was a terrible burden to carry. He never forgot their faces.

Why then, did the death of Risendo engender such feelings of relief? Had he truly grown so callous?

Perhaps he had. God and Padre Benitez forgive him, he could find no regret in the Emissary's demise.

Dulcinea tested her mouth against the bit again and Alejandro quickly tightened his grip on the reins. If he did not pay attention, his horse would decide that she would rather be back in her stall this early in the morning. Even as the mare grudgingly accepted the fact that she would not be able to wrest control from him this morn, the don's thought were returning to their previous path.

Surprised, Alejandro realized that it was not completely truthful to say that he found _no_ regret. He remembered the way the Emissary's blue eyes took on a closed expression when he was questioned about his father. How it had reminded the old don of _his_ son.

He shook his gray head; troubled. The antics of nobility were not unknown to him. He was familiar with the way some men conducted their affairs. But the casual dismissal of their vows before God had always disgusted and infuriated him. Their lack of accountability, even more so. Very rarely were these men called to take responsibility for their actions. Their bastard children were hidden from the world; their paramours shunned by all good society. Given the right education, a male child might hope to rise from the disgrace of their origins, but the girls...Another shake of his head, and the return of his scowl. Daughters of gentlemen they might be, but they were not recognized as such. The most they could hope for was to find a position with a good family as a governess...or perhaps marriage to a man who loved them, though the marriage would undoubtedly be far below the station that they should have had, if their fathers had raised them as they should.

Such a scoundrel had surely been responsible for the Emissary. In that, he found regret. Not for Risendo's death, but surprisingly, for his life. That he should have been forged in such adverse conditions as to create so miserable and bitter a man.

Alejandro pulled Dulcinea up outside of Victoria's tavern. It was early, but he had left his pocket watch on her counter last night, and was eager to know if she had located it. Dismounting, the old don's attention was caught by an indignant voice lifted in protest. The Alcalde!

Eyebrows raised, Alejandro looked across the plaza to see Sergeant Mendoza _and_ De Soto being forcibly removed from the Alcalde's office...by the royal guardsmen! He could feel his jaw dropping in surprise. What on earth could the Emissary's flunkies be about? Without their leader, why should they remain and cause trouble? Hastily looping Dulcinea's reins about the hitching post, the former soldier strode towards the two men where they were sprawled in the dust.

"Sergeant!" Alejandro reached a hand down and helped the portly soldier to his feet, before offering the same assistance to De Soto. The Alcalde shook his head even as he pushed himself up. The grim, despairing look on his face filled Alejandro with misgiving. "What's happened? Why...?"

"Emissary Risendo," De Soto interrupted heavily, "is alive. Apparently we were too hasty in pronouncing his death."

Alive. The Emissary was still alive.

Alejandro felt his face twisting, as though he had swallowed a large and bitter pill.

Mendoza's mustache drooped as he met Alejandro's eyes. "He has sentenced us to death, Don Alejandro! Tomorrow, at sundown!"

His confusion must have been obvious, because De Soto nodded grimly. "Yes, he's allowing us to roam freely. If we stay we are to die painlessly," the Alcalde tugged at his military jacket, straightening it. "If we attempt to run..." voice trailing off, the military man continued to brush at his clothing, attempting to remove the dust of the plaza.

"The Emissary says that he will be inventive," Mendoza gulped.

Anger rose, hot and sudden in Alejandro's heart. Exercising control, the old don ground his teeth together, biting back the flood of invective he longed to hurl in the Emissary's general direction. In truth, he had never been a supporter of the Alcalde, but he had not wished to see the man fail, either. De Soto was not the same man that Luis Ramone had been. He had the potential to be a good leader, and on many occasions he had shown that he possessed significantly more back bone. He was not cruel, indulging in floggings for his own amusement. He _was_ unscrupulous, and in that he often found himself at odds with the de la Vegas.

And yet...

Alejandro sighed deeply. He did not admire everything that Ignacio De Soto did, but he respected the talent and courage he saw displayed at times. More importantly, he knew that De Soto had done nothing to deserve death. Nor had Mendoza. The cruelty of the Emissary made the old don's jaw tighten. To sentence men to die...just because he could!

The pity he had felt for Risendo's upbringing withered in the face of his indignation. Don Gilberto's situation was unfortunate, it was true, but he was well past the age when he was accountable for his own actions. The man was evil. He was twisted, and malicious, and sadistic.

Pocket watch forgotten, Alejandro strode back to Dulcinea's side and quickly pulled her reins free.

If anyone would wish to know of the Emissary's continuance of life, it would be Diego.

0-0-0-0

"Alive?"

Diego stared at his father, slowly digesting the news Alejandro had brought. Sinking back against his chair the younger man slowly pushed a hand through his hair, unconsciously tangling the dark locks.

He didn't know what to think. When he had heard of the Emissary's death he had _not_ mourned. He had, however, regretted any action of his that would have led to the death of a man. Even one so cruel and vile as Risendo.

Don Gilberto was alive...and Zorro was free from the burden of another death on his conscience.

Don Gilberto was alive...and that caused so many more problems for the people of Los Angeles, particularly Diego and his father. He had no doubt that the King's man would continue his inexplicable vendetta against the de la Vegas.

He found that thought to be unbelievably wearying. Why could not the man have just _stayed dead_?

A pang of guilt made him grimace. Had he actually just thought that? Life was not something that should be taken lightly. His father had taught him that. Drilled it into him, actually, from the time when he was a very small boy and idolized the life of a soldier. He had spoken flippantly of killing for the sake of the Spanish crown...

And Alejandro had sat him down and given him a talking to that made a deep imprint in the young boy's life. Most of all, because the elder de la Vega had not roared; had not addressed him in a temper; but had spoken of the men _he_ had killed in service to his king with grave sorrow. He did not, Alejandro said, regret his years as a soldier. Nor even the fact that he had fought and killed. What he wanted Diego to understand was that it would be with him for the rest of his life.

Now here he was, wishing this man deceased. Diego met his father's eyes, noting how the older man was observing him and his rather curious reaction to the news. "I suppose," Diego said slowly, "that we should be grateful. The death of his Emissary would not put Los Angeles in a favorable position with King Ferdinand."

Alejandro nodded grudgingly, sitting down at the table and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Diego wrestled with his feelings as he stirred his own cup. He _should _be grateful that the Emissary was still alive. He should. The death of any human being was a lamentable thing!

God and Padre Benitez forgive him, he had found nothing to regret in the Emissary's death other than his own involvement.

Perhaps Risendo's brush with death would have changed him. Forced him to see the kind of life he was living...

Alejandro sipped his coffee and grimaced at the strength of the bitter brew. "There is more, Diego. The Emissary has sentenced the Alcalde and Sergeant Mendoza to death."

So much for that hope.

"What?" Diego's voice was sharp with disbelief. Truly? The man had barely escaped death, and his only thought upon recovery was to cause misery for others?

The elder de la Vega nodded solemnly. "I know. But it's true. I heard it from their own lips. They're to die tomorrow at sunset." Another sip. "Unless Zorro stops it."

The words were said innocuously enough, but Diego looked up sharply, eyes narrowed. His father's face was bland, unsmiling, and completely unremarkable. Alejandro did not even glance in Diego's direction.

And yet...there was something different about the way his father was referring to Zorro recently. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something had definitely changed. Diego slumped back against his chair, brows drawn together. He would think on it later. Right now he need only concern himself with the question of what he should do about the Emissary.

0-0-0-0

Diego slowly paced across the garden, stretching his arms and wincing at the pain the movement elicited. Yesterday had passed with agonizing slowness, every minute consumed with thoughts of Risendo and what his plans would be for the pueblo. Today, Mendoza and De Soto were condemned to die. Diego needed to know what Zorro was capable of.

At first, a hasty assessment would declare: not much. His right arm throbbed painfully even when he held it still. But then, one never knew exactly what one was capable of until truly tested.

Felipe appeared in the doorway, two practice rapiers in his arms. The young man's expression was dubious. Obviously he considered this course of action unwise. Diego understood his objections. In normal circumstances, he would agree. His wound was fresh, and had had little time to heal. It was not an ideal condition for swordplay.

Felipe's eyes glanced at the gates of the _hacienda,_ face full of trepidation.

"It's all right, Felipe," Diego answered the unspoken question. "Father went to the tavern to collect the pocket watch he left the other night. If he returns, we should be able to hear him."

With a sigh, the young man handed one of the swords to Diego and took up an _en guarde_ position. The blade he held briefly sketched a salute, sunlight gleaming on its polished surface. Despite his protestations that this was not wise, Diego could see a smile beginning to tug at his ward's lips. Felipe loved fencing. He was becoming very talented, too.

The _caballero_ returned the salute, his own lips tilting upwards. At any other time he would truly have enjoyed this contest of skill. Seeing his protege blossoming into a formidable opponent always gave him a fierce kind of delight. It was a kick in the teeth to those who looked down their noses at Felipe; who considered him handicapped. The young man was capable of so much, and soon he would be able to prove it...

Steel clashed. The two fencers circled each other, blades darting up, down, seeking weaknesses.

Diego's smile quickly faded as the mock battle continued. Pain radiated from his wounded arm, distracting him terribly. As always, Felipe was a clever and wily opponent, taking advantage of Diego's distraction to hook his blade with a twisting flick...and Diego's rapier flew through the air to land with a thud several yards away.

The _caballero_ scowled at his own carelessness. He had _taught_ Felipe that move! And he _knew_ how to counter it! His arm did not want to respond to the demands he was making of it. Mouth flattening into a thin line beneath is mustache, Diego retrieved his blade; dropping once more into an _en guarde_ position.

Felipe hesitated, brows drawn together in concern. Gesturing towards Diego's sword, the young man held up his left hand, eyebrows raised in question.

The tall man shook his head in frustration. "If I _can_ fight with my right arm, I need to do so. Everyone knows that Zorro is right-handed. If I give the appearance of being wounded..."

Though he nodded, Felipe's brown eyes were still troubled. Blade rising once more, he moved to the attack.

Diego steeled himself and he tried. He _tried._

But his arm would suddenly drop under the weight of the light rapier...Felipe was moving in with skill and he could only defend, he could not muster an offense of his own...before the bout had lasted more than five minutes he found it necessary to hold his right arm steady with his left, barely bringing it up to deflect Felipe's blade in time.

A particularly vicious shaft of pain seared from his wound and Diego gasped, bending over in agony. Fury rose swiftly at his weakness and the _caballero_ straightened with the sword clenched in his left hand to slash violently at the unoffending flowers in his father's planters. Tufts of vegetation flew through the air, to be quickly joined by Diego's rapier as he cast it away in a further display of bad temper.

Glancing at his right arm, the tall man scowled at the bright red droplets soaking through the snowy whiteness of his ruffled shirt.

"This arm is practically useless," he snarled. "It's nowhere _near_ healed!" The logical, more calculating part of his mind informed him rather tartly that of _course_ his arm was not healed after only two days, but Diego was in no humor for logic. Looking up, he did, however, feel his fury give way to self-reproach as he saw the expression on Felipe's face. The young man moving towards him, but cautiously. Obviously wondering if he were going to explode once more. "I'm sorry, Felipe," Diego apologized sincerely, wishing he could put his ward at ease with mere words. "My anger distorts my judgment." It did indeed. It was how he had become wounded in the first place! Diego shook his head; inwardly castigating himself. He should _never _have gone after Tornado in such an angry state of mind. Never. And yet...the very thought of the Emissary was enough to make him grind his teeth! "Why do I harbor such _animosity_ towards Risendo? ! " he questioned in frustration, blue eyes almost wild. No man had ever managed to weasel their way beneath his calm the way Risendo had done. Not that there weren't times when he had lost his temper, there were! Luis Ramone had borne a scar on his wrist from a moment when he had truly pushed Zorro beyond the bounds of the masked man's patience. The present Alcalde had not managed to infuriate him to that extent, but only because Diego was absolutely convinced that there was a better man lurking behind De Soto's skin. Risendo...he was something else entirely.

Felipe's abrupt gestures offered an explanation, but Diego shook his head. "Oh, the man is evil, no question." But there had been other evil men whom Zorro had smiled at. "So poisoned by malice there's none of the true man left." Head bowed in concentration, the tall man missed the sound of a horse approaching with some speed. Felipe's gentle touch on his shoulder brought him out of his musings to follow the young man's now pointing hand.

Dulcinea was cantering towards the _hacienda._

"Hide the swords," Diego quickly instructed his ward. The _caballero _scooped up his discarded jacket; pulling the blue sleeve over his right arm as he called over his shoulder: "I don't think anyone saw Zorro get hit, but there's no point in testing our luck." Turning towards the gate, Diego noted that Felipe had deposited the rapiers in one of the more lush flowerbeds. They should be safe there until there was time to retrieve them. Slipping into his mask-like persona took more effort than usual, but the handsome man managed at least to smile cheerfully as he pushed his good arm into his jacket and straightened the lapels. "Father!"

0-0-0-0

Alejandro pulled back on his mount's reins, slowing her to a walk. Ordinarily, he would head straight for the stables, but he wanted to make sure that his son knew of Risendo's scheme as quickly as possible. And what luck! Diego was already outside, in the garden with Felipe. His son was shrugging broad shoulders into his jacket as he turned a cheerful smile in his father's direction, hailing his approach.

Was it his imagination, or was Diego moving a little stiffly? The old don dismissed the notion. Perhaps his son had pulled a muscle during his duel the other day.

"Diego! The strangest thing has happened." Dismounting, Alejandro planted his feet in a wide stance, his brown eyes sparking. "Risendo has offered Zorro a truce. He wants to meet him in Diablo canyon at noon." The elder de la Vega emphasized his words with a pointing finger. Disgust radiated from his tone, his face and his stance. The _idea_ that _his_ son...that _Zorro_ would fall for such an obvious lure was preposterous!

"Strange indeed," Diego said mildly. His gaze flickered towards Felipe for a moment, sharing a secret, small smile. "I wonder if Zorro will go."

The words actually caught Alejandro off guard. His gloved hand stopped halfway through the distance to stroke his evil-minded mare's nose. "Why should he?" the old man's eyes were wide as he stared at his son in disbelief. Surely he did not intend... "I mean," Alejandro shrugged and spread his hands, begging his son to heed the logic of his observations, "it's obviously a trap."

"Obviously." Diego agreed, nodding sagely.

Alejandro breathed a sigh of relief, and almost choked on it as the younger man continued.

"But uh... if_ I_ were Zorro," Diego added with a meaningful look at Felipe. "I would go."

"_But," _the former soldier ground through a smile that must have seemed more like the baring of teeth, "you're _not._" He followed his words with a comradely slap to Diego's arm.

Alejandro _felt_ the flinch; saw the instant blank look that robbed Diego of his cheerful smile, replacing it with an expression that was striving not to descend into a grimace and was hard put not to wince along with his son. It took a great deal of his control to turn and lead Dulcinea away, giving Diego time to reorder his features into something that would not betray the fact that he was wounded. What he really wanted was to demand where his son was hurt, and how he might be of assistance. He wanted to commiserate; offer sympathy while relating his own experiences with battle wounds.

He wanted to know who had harmed his son, and where, and how he might go about destroying them.

Shaking his hoary head, the don led Dulcinea to her stall without giving in to the urge to turn back. He did not look over his shoulder until he had reached the stables, and by that time, Diego and Felipe had gone.

Alejandro leaned against the wooden wall and put his head in his hands. His son was _hurt_. He did not know how badly, but the tensing of muscles and the suppressed wince had been unmistakeable. What was worse, the former soldier was certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that his son _would_ be meeting Emissary Risendo at Diablo Canyon.

He was equally certain that Don Gilberto had no intention of dealing fairly with Zorro.

Diego was heading into mortal peril, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it, except pray for his safe return.

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**And the next chapter will be up as soon as I can possibly get it out. Thank you, thank you, thank you all for being so lovely and patient...and please continue? I really will try to get this out in a week. Like I said, I should be getting more time off of work now.**

**See you next chapter!**


	10. Taught My Heart to Fear

**Hello one and all. I hope you're still there, despite the terribly long absence of posting. Shame...shame on me. Unfortunately, and sadly, I do have a very, very good excuse. During my lapse of posting a very dear friend of mine passed away. As much I love writing angst, real grief has never been a good stimulant for my muse. **

**Again, I do apologize for the long wait, and I hope that the chapter is long enough to make up for it. Also, some rather exciting news...**

**We have almost come to the end of my tale! This is the second to last chapter, and then my story shall be complete! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews I have received, and your patience. Well, enough of my chapter! On with the fic!**

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Alejandro stepped back and surveyed Dulcinea's gleaming coat with a critical eye. Grooming his steeds had always helped restore some peace of mind. There was something hypnotic in the rhythmic motion of the currycomb.

The old don pulled out his watch and glanced at the clock face. It still wanted five minutes until noon.

With a snort of disgust, he tossed the currycomb away. So much for peace of mind. He needed a distraction...or a bigger horse. Dulcinea was already groomed within an inch of her life and from the sideways glances she was casting at him, she was tiring of the attention and wished to be left alone. Perhaps he would retire to his garden. Gardening had always been a soothing pastime...

Anything that would take his mind off his son. Diego would be fine. He was not a moron, and he knew that Risendo was not to be trusted. He would be fine.

Alejandro patted Dulcinea once more, and strode from the stable, thoughts far away. In his mind, he was with Diego as his son was arriving at Diablo Canyon. Would he ride through the bottom of the gorge, or stick to the upper edge?

Would he see Risendo first, or would the Emissary be able to sneak up on him...?

The don slashed at the air with his hand. It was useless to speculate! It was just as useless to worry, and yet, he could not help but do both.

His mind far off, Alejandro had entered his garden without realizing where his feet were leading. Brown eyes swiftly raked the neat and orderly flower beds, so carefully repaired after the Emissary's brief seizure of his property. There was still some work to be done, and there were always weeds to be fought...and then there were the slashed and wilting remains of the plants that had until recently grown nicely in the flower pots resting next to the gate.

Wait...

"What on _earth_?" Alejandro's jaw dropped. It looked as though someone had attacked his innocent, defenseless plants with a blade! Ruthlessly attacked! All that remained in the planter were some shortened stubs showing where something had once grown, and the flowers themselves littered the ground like a scanty green carpet.

Kneeling beside one of the planters, Alejandro scooped up a handful of the severed stems. They were still oozing slightly. This had been done fairly recently.

The soft sound of a step made the former soldier turn sharply, a scowl knitting dark eyebrows together.

He was met with the sight of Felipe frozen mid-step as he emerged from the _hacienda. _The young man's gaze flickered to the greenery in Alejandro's hands for the barest fraction of a second. A less observant individual would have missed it, but Alejandro had learned to pay more attention to his surroundings in the months since he had discovered his son's secret. More specifically, he had learned to pay attention to the _people_ who surrounded him.

Felipe knew what had happened, and it probably had something to do with Diego. If he, Alejandro, wished for more information, however, he would have to unearth it for himself, because he was very sure that Felipe would never disclose anything.

The old don sighed. Not so very long ago, that knowledge would have infuriated him. He would have demanded to know what was going on. He would have roared and stomped about the _hacienda_. And it would have availed him naught. Neither Diego nor Felipe would have told him anything, and he would only have succeeded in alienating them further.

Now, the realization made him...tired.

He was tired. Tired of the charade. Tired of waiting for his son to trust him. Tired of being left in ignorance when Diego rode away as Zorro. He was...old. At the very least, he was certainly no longer young. He wanted to be close to his son before there was no more time. Not that he was one of those people who suspected death around every corner; nor did he intend to live as though he were dying, even if he were; but he knew that he had crossed the point in his lifetime where he could be certain that there was less time, rather than more.

With an effort, the scowl left his face and he smiled at Felipe. "It seems my flowers have met with an accident," the old don said wryly. "Come give me a hand, please?"

An answering grin slid across Felipe's expressive face. The young man quickly fetched some gardening tools and joined the older de la Vega in his work.

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Some of his tension had been alleviated by Felipe's presence. The young man was a pleasant companion. Even without the power of speech, he had little trouble making himself understood if the other party were willing to put forth some effort. Alejandro had always had more difficulty than Diego, but the old don was perfectly willing to admit that it was entirely due to his own impatience. Victoria had never had trouble interpreting the youth's signals, and Diego seemed to have a link directly to his ward's mind.

Lately, however, Alejandro found himself understanding Felipe without the young man repeating gestures over and over. Perhaps controlling his temper had added benefits.

Alejandro glanced up from where he was kneeling and saw Felipe's head cocked to one side, brows drawn together as he looked out through the gates. Was he also thinking of Diego? The old don allowed his eyes to drift outwards as well. He doubted that he would see his son returning, but...wait. There _was_ a small dust cloud rising. A rider? Yes. Someone was coming towards the _hacienda_, and judging from the amount of dirt their horse was kicking up, they were moving with great haste.

"Well whoever it is, they mean business," Alejandro mused aloud, pushing himself to his feet and brushing off the knees of his trousers. A slight frown of disapproval tipped the edges of his lips downward. It wasn't wise to ride a horse that hard in the heat of midday. Who on earth could want to see the de la Vegas so urgently?

The rider disappeared for a moment behind a small hill. Rising over the crest he was suddenly much closer, and Alejandro could see the sunlight flashing from gold braid and the snowy whiteness of a uniform... "Is that Risendo?"

Casting a quick glance at Felipe, Alejandro saw the boy's mouth flatten into a grim line as he jerked his head in admission. Felipe's eyes were excellent, Alejandro knew. An unpleasant foreboding rose like an ugly cloud in his mind. Why was the Emissary here? He was _supposed_ to be meeting Zorro in the canyon. "Better go inside, quickly," the don instructed, his eyes turning back to the approaching figure. "Prime a pistol, just in case." He sensed Felipe hesitate, unwilling to leave him alone. "Hurry!" He would feel much safer if they had a weapon handy. There was no reason for Don Gilberto to be visiting them. No good reason. Not after Alejandro had so adroitly called his poorly planned attempt to drive a wedge between the de la Vegas.

Felipe grimaced, but dropped the shovel he was holding and obeyed. The old don stood firmly, feet spread in a wide stance, chin lifted. Risendo came riding up to the gate of the _hacienda_, his poor beast sweating heavily from such exertion in the heat. Pulling up sharply, the king's man dismounted and threw his reins haphazardly over the hitching post. He strode through the gate, his gait brisk and impatient.

There was something...something in his face that Alejandro did not like. This man had come for a definite purpose. He was on mission.

"Something I can do for you, Emissary?" The elder de la Vega asked belligerently. He did not care for etiquette at the moment. Risendo had invaded their pueblo. He had attacked Alejandro's family in a very personal manner. Whatever reason he had for appearing here, when he was supposed to be meeting Zorro, Alejandro was sure that it was _not_ good.

As sure as he was, however, the old don was unprepared for the fist that connected very solidly with his face.

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Dust was tickling his nose. Stifling him. Why was he breathing in dust? He was on the ground. Why was he lying face down on the ground? How had he come to be here? What...

Ow.

Alejandro winced. Oh yes. Now he remembered. He had been working in his garden, and Risendo had been approaching the _hacienda_. The Emissary had _struck_ him!

A shaft of fear suddenly pierced the old man's heart. Felipe! He had to get up...he had to move...

Moving proved harder than wishing to move. His head was still spinning from the blow he had received. Stars swam around the edges of his vision as he shifted, but the don was determined. He had to help Felipe... Alejandro had barely managed to push himself away from the earth when a strong, gloved hand seized him roughly by the collar.

"Get up," Risendo snarled as he hauled Alejandro to his feet and thrust the _caballero_ away.

Alejandro stumbled backwards, hoping desperately that he was not about to black out once more. The Emissary threw something towards him, and more by instinct than skill, the old don caught it. He looked down at the steel blade in his hands, and his heart sank. The odds of him surviving a match against a much younger, stronger opponent were...not good. Even without a recent blow to the head. Raising his eyes to meet the Emissary's cold, blue glare, he realized that he was almost undoubtedly going to die. Don Gilberto's eyes were filled with disgust; with implacable hatred. But _why_? Why did he hate the de la Vegas so completely and unremittingly? An overwhelming wave of bewilderment swept through his tumbled mind. "Why are you doing this?" Alejandro shook his head in the complete and utter confusion that assailed him. "Gilberto Risendo. Answer me please, why?" _Why do you hate me so much? Why do you despise Diego? Why would you risk enmity with the king by killing a friend of the royal family who has done you no harm? _

"Let's save that for your final moments on earth, shall we?" Risendo snapped, eyes hard, voice gritting through clenched teeth. "Then you can die with that knowledge shattering your cold, sinful heart!"

The bitter rancor in the Emissary's words shocked Alejandro further. This man honestly believed himself _wronged. _He believed himself to be fighting for vengeance...for _what? !_

With a swift, fluid movement, Risendo's sword was drawn and ready. "Defend yourself!" He leapt forward, thrusting, only to be deflected.

To Alejandro's surprise, (and dismay) a cruel smile curled the corners of the Emissary's thin mouth. He pulled back, turning away.

"You're insane." The statement was accurate, but despairing. The old don knew that it must be the truth. The eager, triumphant expression molding Risendo's sharp features couldn't be anything _but_ madness!

In response, the Emissary spun, his blade darting in with fierce, rapid stabs; the violence of his movements belied by the widening smile stretching across his face.

Only a mad man would act in this way.

And what, Alejandro asked himself with a horribly sinking heart, would a maniac do to a young man who was beloved by his enemy? If Felipe were all right, he would have come running with the pistol by now. Risendo had done _something_. Just as he must have done something to the hero he was supposed to be meeting. But what? Was Felipe bound inside the _hacienda? And where was Zorro?_ Had the King's man _injured_ one or both of them? Or perhaps something worse still...

"_No_!" Fear pushed the word from his lips as the old don struck Risendo's blade away savagely. He could not believe that Diego was dead. He could not believe that Felipe was dead. He _would not! _Not like this! Not at the hands of this maniac_!_

The former soldier lunged, but his emotions betrayed him. He knew that he had misjudged his stroke a second after he was in motion, but then it was too late. He had left an opening. He was vulnerable. Don Gilberto's blade flashed and pain drew a hot, agonizing ribbon up his arm. Alejandro gasped, curling over his wound instinctively as he fell on one knee. Why hadn't Risendo killed him? He had made it clear that death was his intention. Why didn't he strike now?

Through his pain, Alejandro received his answer. A soft, malicious chuckle.

Fury seized him as he spun to face his antagonist. The cruel smile twisting Don Gilberto's narrow features left him in no doubt. The Emissary was toying with him. Taking delight in causing as much pain and distress as possible.

Teeth bared in a grimace of rage and pain, Alejandro surged to his feet. He could feel warm blood snaking a bright trail down his left hand. Brown eyes measured Risendo warily. This man was dangerous. Dangerous and sadistic. He would do anything, _say_ anything, to prolong the twisted pleasure he received from meting out what he perceived as revenge. Whatever happened, the old don knew he must _not _allow his temper to gain control of his actions. It would be his undoing. Already his anger had led to a wound. Not fatal, not even completely disabling. Painful, but it was no accident that Risendo had slashed his _left_ arm. He _wanted_ this duel to go on. At least, until he tired of toying with his victim...

Risendo's blade flickered and Alejandro parried. In and out, in and out. The Emissary's attacks were jabs, testing Alejandro's defenses; forcing him to keep his guard up. The two men circled each other slowly, blades dancing in the intricate patterns of life and death.

It had been a long time since he had needed to use a sword. He had been an excellent swordsman in his youth, and even now, after so many years of neglect, his arm still remembered the skills he had taken such pains to learn. Unfortunately, time beginning to take its due. Alejandro ground his teeth together, attempting to ignore the burn of muscle fatigue.

As Risendo stepped back, breaking off his attack, Alejandro's gaze traveled swiftly around the garden, searching for anything that might serve as a weapon. There was the shovel that Felipe had abandoned. It would have a longer reach than the sword, and Risendo certainly would not be expecting a clout with a heavy object...but how to get it without tipping his hand...?

"Looking for someone?" The Emissary's voice grated through the brief silence, surprising Alejandro. His eyes swung back to the younger man's face, and a cold sliver of dread pierced his heart. There was something new in Risendo's expression. A strange, joyful ugliness.

"I hope you're not waiting for Zorro to ride to your rescue, old man," Don Gilberto sneered, that nasty smile twisting his lips.

The sliver grew, creating a sharp pain. A horrible suspicion. He didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know, but the words spilled directly from the new hole in his heart, bypassing his lips and cognitive functions entirely. "What have you done?"

"Heroes really are so easy to manipulate," Risendo's smile widened slowly. "They can't help it. They're too full of honor, nobility, honesty, and all other sorts of virtues that should be ignored."

"You promised Zorro a truce," Alejandro said quietly, knuckles slowly turning white around the hilt of his rapier.

"I lied." the king's man drawled. "El Zorro fell prey to a fox trap. He won't be interfering in our business _this_ time, de la Vega. Or ever again."

All thoughts of control were drowned out by the ringing in his ears. A swirling maelstrom of bitter, bitter pain tore at him, threatening to bring him to his knees. Risendo leapt forward and Alejandro fended him off, but he knew now that his defense was failing. He was being driven further and further around the _hacienda_ and into the back courtyard. He made one final attempt, but his mind was far away from the battle on which his own life rested.

It was in a canyon, with a man dressed in black. Along with his heart.

Diego! His son! Oh, his son!

Risendo's blade stabbed once more; again forsaking the chance to make a clean kill and settling for a wound. Alejandro cried out as the blade of his opponent sank into his thigh, bringing the old don to his knees.

"Time to die old man," Risendo said quietly, his blade held at the ready, hovering inches away from Alejandro's body. The younger man's eyes were flashing with a bizarre look of...triumph. "Time to learn a secret."

"What _secret_?" Alejandro demanded, bewildered and heartsick. "Dear God, you _are_ insane." It was the only explanation that made any sense in justifying the Emissary's vendetta.

Don Gilberto's expression flickered, the triumph fading ever so slightly. He had the look of an actor who suddenly realized that he had been reading from the wrong script ever since the first curtain. He had obviously expected...something. And Alejandro had no idea what it was.

The blue eyes hardened, mouth flattening into a thin, grim line. Risendo drew back his sword for the final plunge. The blade was razor sharp, Alejandro knew. It would slide through flesh as easily as a hot knife through butter. There would be pain, but it would be over quickly. The old don did not flinch at the thought of death. If his son had gone before him, death would unite them all the more quickly.

There was a flicker of motion behind Risendo and Alejandro experienced a brief, sickening moment of fear. Not Felipe! The boy would be killed!

"_Father_!"

His son's voice was music to his ears. "Diego!" Even as the tall man charged forward, Alejandro flung his rapier. In one smooth motion, Diego snatched the blade from the air and swung it viciously; forcing the Emissary to retreat as the younger de la Vega placed himself firmly between Risendo and his father. Rapier point hovering, ready to plunge into his opponent's heart, Diego faced his adversary. His weight was balanced exquisitely between both feet, rock solid, and yet ready at any moment to move wherever was necessary.

"Can you stand?" The question was rasped, harsh. Alejandro looked up in surprise, but he could not see his son's face. The younger _caballero's_ eyes were trained on Risendo, and Risendo alone.

"I think so," the don answered, quickly levering himself up. Fiery tendrils of pain clawed their way out from his wound, but the elder de la Vega gritted his teeth and ignored them.

"Go untie Felipe," Diego ordered, his words rapped out sharply. His gaze never left Risendo for a moment.

Felipe was alive. Oh thank God. Relief nearly made Alejandro sink to his knees once more, but... "But..." he began to protest. He should be by his son's side. He could not _leave_ him...

"DO IT!" Diego roared, shocking his father into action. Limping heavily, Alejandro stumbled towards the doorway. He had never heard Diego roar before. _Never_. Even as he obeyed his son, the elder _caballero_ could not help but cast an apprehensive glance at Risendo as he staggered past the Emissary. It was not alleviated by the way Don Gilberto's eyes darted back and forth between Alejandro and his son...nor by the sly look of dawning comprehension that followed.

Felipe. Get to Felipe as quickly as possible.

Then get his pistol. Then shoot the Emissary.

Goals set firmly in his mind, Alejandro gritted his teeth together and stumbled on. Blood dripped freely from both wounds, leaving a straggling trail across the smooth floor of the _hacienda_ in his wake.

_And I just finished cleaning up the stain left by Lt. Hildalgo._ The thought flitted through Alejandro's mind with more than a hint of annoyance and the old man shook his head dazedly. Shock was affecting him.

Limping toward the sitting room, the don saw Felipe on the ground. His wrists and ankles had been tied cruelly tight. Alejandro didn't bother struggling with the knots. Seizing a letter opener left on the side table he knelt ponderously, hissing through his teeth. Pain made stars swim around the edges of his vision, but he ignored it. Diego was fighting Risendo at this very moment...He had to get back to his son!

The curtain tie Risendo had used to bind Felipe gave quickly under the sharp edge of the letter opener. Within moments the young man was pushing himself into a sitting position and grimacing as he rubbed feeling back into his hands.

Felipe's brown eyes flicked to Alejandro and widened at the sight of the spreading, crimson stains. The young man leapt to his feet, obviously intending to fetch a bandage, or something else that would help Alejandro.

"No!" Before he could dash away, Alejandro reached up and snatched at Felipe's arm, catching his elbow in an iron grip. "Felipe, it can wait!" His hurts were not deadly. They could be left for a little longer. Alejandro rose to his feet with difficulty; hauling himself upright with the assistance of the young man's arm and a chair. His leg and hand throbbed simultaneously and Alejandro ground his teeth together. "The _pistol_." Words gritted through clenched teeth were not usually very clear, but Felipe understood him.

A hasty scouring of the room produced the weapon he had been priming before Risendo had interrupted him.

"Give me your shoulder," Alejandro commanded. "Hurry. Diego is fighting Risendo."

Felipe obeyed with alacrity, and in his wide, brown eyes, Alejandro could read his own fears. Diego was wounded. The old don did not know how badly, but judging by the ease with which Felipe was dissuaded from seeing to the elder de la Vega's hurts...

With a heave, the two were in motion. Alejandro's left arm slung over the young man's slender shoulders; an awkward, painful version of a three-legged race. Felipe would have moved slower out of care for the old don, (even though the most unobservant person on earth could hardly fail to miss the _waves _of fear for Diego that were rolling off of him) but Alejandro would have none of it. His son needed help...gritting his teeth, Alejandro tightened his grip on the pistol and pushed on. He could hear the clash of swords through the open door, and a sudden cry of pain.

Diego!

He actually tried to break away from Felipe, but the youth would not release his hold. Just as well, he wouldn't have done his son any good falling on his face. From the way his leg was now trembling, Alejandro was fairly certain that it would not have supported a running step. Together, the two continued on at what now seemed an excruciatingly laborious pace.

Finally, he thrust himself into the doorway, steadying his body against the wooden frame. Alejandro cursed silently. Diego's broad back stood between himself and a clear shot at the Emissary's head.

"Out of the way, Diego!"

A sick wave of fear rose in the elder de la Vega's throat as he saw the way Diego was holding his right arm close to his body, a crimson stain seeping through the thin material of his shirt.

"No, Father." Diego's tone surprised Alejandro. "He's _mine_." His voice was cold. Cold, and hard, and _calm. _

And then Diego began to _fence_.

"Diego?" Alejandro stared, amazed. His son's movements were liquid, graceful and powerful. He gave not an inch, and attacked with a powerful savagery that was all the more impressive since he had switched his rapier to his uninjured, _left_ hand. "I've never seen such fierceness," Alejandro gasped, shocked. It was true. He had seen Zorro fight before, of course. But the masked man always seemed to treat his duels as a diversion. Amusing, but hardly anything to get worked up over. Now...

Now, Diego was truly fighting. His fury was under his control; working _for_ him rather than distorting his judgment. "Diego's magnificent," Alejandro shook his head in bewilderment. Struck by his own blindness yet again. How had he not noticed for so long...? "Felipe," he nodded towards the duelers, "where did he learn to fence like that?"

Felipe shrugged awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with the question. Not that Alejandro actually expected an answer. His attention was already back on the two fencers.

Diego's skill was remarkable. Even wounded; fighting with his left hand, it was quickly becoming obvious that his opponent was no match for him. With a complicated twist, the Emissary's blade flew through the air. While Risendo was still watching his rapier leave his gloved hand in dismay, Diego was spinning, his right foot catching behind the Emissary's ankle and pulling it from beneath him, sending the king's man sprawling ingloriously upon his backside as the _caballero _returned to a ready position.

The breath he had not realized he had been holding left Alejandro's lungs in a long sigh. His son had won. He was safe. They were all safe. Don Gilberto Risendo had not been able to carry out his twisted agenda.

Risendo glared up at Diego from his position in the dust. "Go ahead," he demanded. "Kill me!" When the _caballero _did not lunge forward, the Emissary sneered. "You can't do it. You don't have the courage!"

"Murder," Diego said grimly, "is a coward's solution."

Alejandro found himself somewhere between smiling and scowling. Of course murder was a coward's solution, and he was proud of Diego for holding to his teachings and beliefs even under such arduous circumstances.

At the same time, he could not deny that life would be easier for everyone if Diego would just put his blade through the Emissary's heart. It might be hard to find the organ, withered and black as it must be, but Alejandro was sure that his son could discover it within three or four stabs.

"You really believe that?" Risendo laughed. Ugly, mocking laughter. The sound of it made Alejandro's hackles rise. "I once told _our_ father, that you have a lot to learn about the real world," Risendo continued.

The word was included so smoothly, almost casually. Our father. Our.

Alejandro slowly limped forward, staring, his jaw agape. _What on earth...?_

"_Our_ father?" Diego echoed, disbelief etched in the hard planes of his face. He shot a glance at his father as the older man drew level with him, blue eyes narrowed with a question...

The insult was a slap to the face that shocked him deeply. How _dare_ this man suggest that _he_, Alejandro de la Vega, would betray his wife and child in this manner. The notion was ridiculous! Absurd! _Stupid_!

"That's right Diego," Risendo continued, bringing the younger _caballero's_ attention back to his sprawled form. "You are my brother." There was that sneering, gleeful smile again. He could see the discomfit that his claims were causing...and enjoyed it.

Bewildered, Alejandro stared at the Emissary. Why would he think that he would be believed? A lie of this magnitude would need proof, and there could be none! He couldn't possibly think to keep this falsehood alive for long...

"Brother?" The disbelief in Diego's voice was now tinged with scorn. That scorn eased something inside of the old don. His son did not believe the Emissary.

"You've sensed it all along," Risendo chuckled meanly.

Why was he continuing this? He must know that he would not be believed. Unless...

Unexpectedly, the wrath in Alejandro's heart eased. It did not disappear, but was eclipsed for the moment with a surge of pity. Risendo must actually believe this lie. Suddenly his vendetta against the de la Vega's made sense, in a twisted and cruel way. _Where_ Don Gilberto had come by this notion was another matter entirely...someone had to have told him this...someone he trusted; believed in implicitly.

"This is absurd," Diego said harshly.

"It's true."

The woman's voice surprised them all, turning heads in unison toward the archway. Standing there was an older woman dressed in scarlet, her gray hair drawn back and coiled at the back of her head. She held herself proudly, as though she were a queen. Dark eyes glinted as she met Alejandro's gaze and he was shocked to recognize them. "What Gilberto says is true," she continued striding forward. "I am Inez Risendo."

_That _woman. Oh Lord. "Yes...Inez Risendo..." Even after all these years, her name carried a bitter flavor on his tongue. His fingers began to travel towards his forehead, hoping to ease away the headache that always followed thoughts of her.

"Father, do you know this woman?" Diego demanded.

"Sadly yes, Diego." Alejandro forced his hand away from his face. It was unwise to show weakness in the presence of the enemy. Brown eyes traveled to the woman once more and his mouth flattened into a thin, grim line. "_Señora_ Risendo." The old don took a step towards her, but halted as his wound throbbed painfully. "I haven't laid eyes on you in _years,_" he said tightly. "since Diego was born." And he would have preferred things to remain status quo. This woman was...damaged. His wife had sensed it. He himself had received direct knowledge of her instability.

The _señora's _eyes glittered with malice. There was a strange smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The same smile that had twisted Risendo's expression. Breaking Alejandro's gaze she nodded toward the Emissary where he was sprawled. "He was born two minutes before Diego," she announced. "_He_ is the true heir to your property. His real name is Gilberto de la Vega."

Of all the things he had thought might come from that woman's mouth, he could not have predicted _that. _Shock froze him. The audacity of her claim was ridiculous. If there had been another child, Elena would have known. She would have been thrilled. Glancing at his son, Alejandro saw Diego's eyes widen, his jaw drop. The tall _caballero_ met his father's eyes almost desperately, seeking...reassurance? Confirmation?

"No," the absurdity the idea actually made Alejandro chuckle, though it emerged from his throat in a strained, wheezed manner. "It's preposterous." And it _was_. Gilberto could not be his child. Could not be Elena's child. This was _insane_! Anger rose once more. That Inez Risendo would deceive and twist Don Gilberto for what must have been _years..._ She was _responsible_ for the man who had caused the entire pueblo so much grief! The old man glared at her briefly before directing his words at Risendo. "Look, I don't know _who_ you _are, _Gilberto Risendo," he emphasized the Emissary's name deliberately. Coldly. "And I also don't know the _lies _the _señora _has told you." Alejandro gestured to _Señora _Risendo with a jab of his hand. "We _hired _her. She was our midwife. A few day before Diego was expected, my wife had these...suspicions...about this lady." Alejandro recalled the anxious tone of Elena's letter; her worry. "She could not have children of her own. She was an angry, bitter and jealous woman...oh enough!" The old don slashed the air with his hand, as though he could push away the memory.

"You see what he is doing, Gilberto," Inez directed her words solely at the Emissary. "He's perverting the truth all over again!"

Revulsion struck him hard as Alejandro's hot gaze seared towards the woman he had known so long ago. _Perverting the truth all over again._ This was obviously not the first time she had told Risendo these lies, nor the second, or even the third. She must have whispered her poisonous words into her son's ears over years; nurtured the bitterness that she saw they engendered. Unable to stand the sight of her, the elder de la Vega averted his gaze; sickened by the unfounded venom this woman had allowed to take root in her heart and taken pains to plant in others. Brown eyes rested on Risendo and pity rose in his heart once more. What a horrible life. Raised in hatred; the pawn of a woman who was clearly mad.

The Emissary's face hardened at his mother's words and he made as though he would rise. Diego quickly discouraged his attempt, thrusting forward with the point of his rapier in a clear warning.

He supposed he should be enraged, at this point. It was in keeping with his nature to take affront. And yet...

He could only manage tired.

Lying in the dirt, Don Gilberto hardly presented a threatening figure, and now that Alejandro knew what had happened to mold him, he found he looked on the downed Emissary with more compassion than anger. "If you had been my son," he said gently, "no power on earth would have taken you away from me." He couldn't imagine what the _señora _had told her son to explain this situation. To create such a thirst for vengeance. Obviously she had inferred that Alejandro was the boy's father, which was patently ridiculous. He was proud of the vows he had made to his wife, and he had never forsaken them.

But then, where _had_ Gilberto come from? And how could he have been born two minutes before Diego? Inez certainly had not been pregnant at the time of Elena's childbearing, or she would not have been employed as their midwife...for that matter, how could Gilberto exist at all? His own words echoed teasingly inside his mind, bothering him. _She could not have children of her own._

"If he were your son," Diego interjected coldly, "he would not have tried to kill you."

Of course, Diego was correct. This was not possible.

"He is your brother," Inez insisted, "and he can prove it."

She did not refer to the Emissary as Diego's _half_ brother. A nasty, sinking sensation filled Alejandro with foreboding. Two minutes before. She could not have children of her own. Where had Gilberto come from? He had to have been born to someone.

_She could not have children of her own_.

"You have a birthmark on your inner thigh," Inez's words were rapped out, her cold eyes fixed on Diego. "In the shape of a cross."

Yes, he did. Of course she would know that...she was the midwife at Diego's birth. But how could that possibly prove anything?

The de la Vega's exchanged confused glances before their attention was turned to the Emissary.

Don Gilberto tore the seam on his immaculate military trousers, exposing the inner thigh of his right leg.

All it took was a glimpse, and suddenly Alejandro felt the world spin about him. Now what the _señora _said _did_ make sense. Terrible, horrifying sense. She was not implying that Alejandro had been unfaithful. No, nothing so sordid. Gilberto had been born two minutes before Diego because he was Diego's twin. A child of Elena and Alejandro.

And Inez Risendo had taken him before anyone knew that he existed.

The shock was bringing stars to his vision. Alejandro closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, not caring anymore if this was perceived as weakness by his enemy. He could not believe this...and yet he had to. He had another son. Elena had another son.

"Very well," Diego's voice was rough, obviously as shocked as Alejandro. "You are my brother."

The old don opened his eyes in time to see Diego looking to him, eyes wide and questioning. Accepting the proof that was before him...but still needing his father's confirmation before he truly, _truly_ believed.

Alejandro could only nod, weakly. This was his son. The scourge of the pueblo. This cruel, twisted and sadistic man.

This damaged person.

Dear God. This was his son.

There was a flurry of movement, and suddenly Risendo was on his feet, a small pistol in his hand. The Emissary had taken advantage of Diego's momentary distraction, and now the muzzle of his weapon hovered level with his brother's heart.

"Say goodbye to your beloved son, old man," Risendo smirked, eyes glinting with the same maniacal glow that lit Inez's gaze. "And I have one more secret for you. When I kill Diego de la Vega, I also kill..."

The explosive sound of a shot interrupted the Emissary's words and for a moment Alejandro's heart stopped, his eyes flying to Diego, expecting to see a red stain blossoming across the ruffled _caballero_ shirt.

Diego was as surprised as he, mouth agape...but there was no wound.

As if in slow motion, Don Gilberto's knees buckled, his eyes rolling back in his head. The Emissary fell to the ground with a thud. Diego swiftly crouched beside the fallen body, but his eyes were trained on a figure entering the garden through the back gate, a smoking pistol in his hand. De Soto strode forward slowly, his gaze glued to the body stretched out on the ground, a crimson pool spreading from beneath it only to be soaked into the dust.

"Gilberto!" Inez cried out, quickly sinking to her knees beside the fallen form of the man who had called her 'mother'.

Alejandro knelt too, his gaze fixed on the Emissary's face. The cruel lines etched there were deepened with pain and surprise. Wide blue eyes focused on the don's face. The face of the man he had scorned to recognize as his father.

There never would have been enough time to explain everything, Alejandro knew. Never. Years could not have undone all the damage that Inez had wreaked on his...son. Yet this was somehow even more cruel. To have _no _time. No moments to explain that everything he knew was a lie. No way to refute the twisted schemes that Inez had spun for so many years.

Only _a _moment. One second. One look. One chance to squeeze a hand that should have clung to his whilst the owner was leaning to walk. To try and communicate that if he had been allowed to raise his son, things would have been so different.

It wasn't enough, but it was all he had.

The gloved fingers went slack, and the blue eyes drifted closed. The harsh, cruel, sneering lines of Gilberto's face eased into the slackness of death, and he was gone.

"It was either Risendo, or you, Diego," De Soto's voice broke the silence of the tableau. "What else could I do?"

Nothing, Alejandro knew. There had been no way to circumvent the actions that had taken place. If De Soto had not fired, Diego might be dead now.

Hadn't he himself thought a matter of minutes ago that it would be best for everyone if the Emissary were to die?

Amazing what could change in seconds. Tiny fractions of time, yet the direction of lives could turn in just one.

Half an hour ago, he had one son, and an enemy.

Five minutes ago he had two sons.

Now he wasn't sure what he had. He had one son...and he had a wound that might never be healed.

Felipe was helping him upright, and the old don winced as his wounds throbbed sharply. From the young man's hand gestures, Alejandro deduced that he was being led inside to have his hurts treated. Perhaps. He wasn't quite sure, and could not be bothered to pay closer attention or ask Felipe to repeat himself.

The youth started to steer him towards the sitting room, but Alejandro rebelled slightly, insisting on being deposited in his study. Felipe saw him comfortably seated and darted away to fetch healing devices.

As soon as he was alone, Alejandro leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes tightly. He didn't know what was happening with the _señora, _nor the Alcalde, nor Gilberto's remains...and he didn't care.

His control was fraying drastically around the edges, threatening to tear itself into tiny pieces. One finger reached out and slowly stroked the cameo of Elena on his desk.

They had another child. There had been another child. No wonder the birth had been so hard on her. Oh Elena. She would have been thrilled with another child. _He_ would have been thrilled with another child.

And they _had_ one! Stolen from the birthing room.

"_Dios_," Alejandro moaned, his head sinking forward into his hands. He was tired of holding himself together. He wanted to break. To scream. To curse and roar and rail against the cruel whim of an insane woman.

0-0-0-0

Reality was mercifully blurred together for a time. The next few hours passed without leaving significant traces of their existence in the old don's memories. Vaguely, he wondered what was to be done with the remains...ahhhh...

The moment his mind touched the subject of his...son...it shied away violently, as though someone had pressed a glowing brand into his thoughts, leaving behind a bleeding, smoking scar. He could not face it. Not now.

A gentle touch on his arm made him look up into the worried brown eyes of a young man. Felipe was gazing down at him, obviously concerned. Probably with good reason. Alejandro wondered how long the youth had been there.

Judging by the fact that his wounds were treated, and he had no memory of the event, probably quite a while.

"Yes, Felipe? What is it?" Had his voice always sounded so old? So tired? Alejandro frowned down at the soft linen strips wound about his left arm for a moment. Obviously, Felipe had been the one to tend him. Why hadn't Diego come?

Felipe's fingers moved quickly through the air, but Alejandro could not concentrate. The signs meant nothing to him. "Where is Diego?"

The young man stopped and frowned, his hands falling to his sides. Brows drawn together in concern, he began once more, his fluid movements exaggerated and slow.

Ah. Felipe had been trying to tell him where Diego was already.

"He's gone to fetch Sergeant Mendoza?" For what? Alejandro briefly considered being confused and seeking information...but it was too much of an effort. Better to allow his brain to disconnect. Part of his mind knew that ordinarily he would have been interested. He would have wanted to know everything, question everything, seek answers...

Right now he wanted to know nothing. If he could, he would gladly pass into unconsciousness and take himself away from this moment. He would gladly forget everything that had happened in the past few days. He would remove the memories that were hovering on the edges of his thoughts, ready to pounce and finally pierce through the haze of shock with terrible, brutal pain.

_Elena, there was another child..._

The thought briefly flitted through his mind, but he violently pushed it out again with a grunt and a wince; his eyes screwing shut and his hand slashing weakly at the air in front of him. As if he could push away such a thing. As though it were a solid foe that he could fight.

When he opened his eyes again, Alejandro vaguely realized that Felipe's gaze was concerned. Very, _very_ concerned.

With a sigh, the don turned away.

He didn't want to know.

0-0-0-0

Diego dismounted quickly from his horse at the gate of the _hacienda_, heart heavy. The stout sergeant followed behind him along with a contingent of lancers. Moving efficiently (for once) the men proceeded to respectfully lift Don Gilberto's limp form into the back of the de la Vega's wagon. Diego left them to their business. Let the lancers deal with his...brother.

The tall man shook his head slowly, striding into the _hacienda_. His mind was still reeling from the news; off balanced. A gentle touch at his elbow made him jump, swiftly turning to meet the very concerned gaze of his ward. Diego tried to smile reassuringly, but he could feel how stiffly the expression twisted his features. Giving up the attempt with a sigh, he glanced towards his father's study. "How is he?"

The torn look that flitted across Felipe's expressive face surprised the _caballero;_ making him cudgel his brains out of their numbed stupidity and pay close attention to the young man's fluid signals. Felipe had dressed the wounds as requested...both were relatively minor. Flesh wounds. They hadn't even bled too profusely.

All good. So what was the problem?

"Did my father say something, Felipe?" Diego hazarded a guess. With his father's volatile temperament and the strain he was under from the traumatic events of the day, perhaps he had said something inflammatory...

The young man shook his head fervidly, hands moving even more swiftly.

Diego's dark brows drew together. His father had said nothing? _His_ father? No wonder Felipe was concerned.

Moving past the slender youth, Diego strode toward his father's study. The door opened with a light push; revealing Alejandro.

At first glance, the older man seemed unharmed and at ease. He was seated at his desk, elbows resting on the polished surface, chin resting on clasped hands.

"Father?"

No reply. He might as well have addressed the wall.

"Father?" Diego spoke a little louder as he moved forward, kneeling at his parent's side. Alejandro did not move. He gave absolutely no indication that he had heard Diego or was aware of his presence in the slightest.

The younger de la Vega was worried now. Gently, he touched his father on the shoulder.

Nothing.

Several long moments passed in which Diego's fingers tightened their grip, slowly, while Alejandro sat still and silent.

At last, the old don seemed to realize his son was addressing him. He turned to face Diego and the younger _cabellero_ blanched as his father met his gaze.

The eyes...the brown eyes that had always been so alive...

They were blank.

There was something indescribably _wrong_ with the lack of emotion in his father's gaze. Alejandro de la Vega _was _emotion. He was passion and temper and nobility. He was righteous indignation, courage, honor...

Not this. This...nothingness.

Diego had been contemplating leaving Alejandro and Felipe at the _hacienda_ while he dealt with the legal ramifications surrounding the Emissary's death. He had, initially, been concerned that his father would object to being left behind. Now he was worried that the older man would not care.

0-0-0-0

Alejandro blinked, slowly bringing the features before him into recognizable order. Diego. "What is it, son?" he asked quietly. His voice fell oddly on his own ears. Like it didn't belong to him.

Diego's blue eyes registered relief at the sound, however, and Alejandro briefly wondered how long his son had been trying to get his attention. For that matter, how long had Diego been in the room? The old don did not remember hearing his son enter.

Diego was speaking, but Alejandro's attention was wandering. Nothing seemed to make sense. He understood the individual words coming from Diego's mouth, but the sentences were incomprehensible. His son had paused, blue eyes questioning. Waiting for a response, Alejandro realized. Obviously he had just asked a question.

Belaboring his numbed mind, the former soldier forced himself to pull meaning from the words his son had just uttered.

He was speaking of going into the pueblo with the Emissary's remains. He would return soon...

Alejandro realized with a jolt that Diego intended to leave him at the _hacienda_. "No." His voice was firmer, more himself. No, he would not be left behind. He would accompany his son into the pueblo. _Both his sons._

Again, the touch of a stray thought made him flinch. The words flickering through his head were like embers. Bright and glowing, but burning the flesh they came into contact with.

"Father..." Diego seemed ready to argue the point, but Alejandro rose abruptly, cutting him off.

"_No_, Diego. I'm coming with you."

0-0-0-0

The wagon ride into the pueblo was silent. Grim, even. Seated beside Sergeant Mendoza, Alejandro stared ahead, eyes fixed on Esperanza's back. He hardly noted the scenery that passed. So much so that it came as something of a surprise when the stout sergeant pulled back on the reins. They had arrived in the pueblo.

The old don descended stiffly from his perch, wincing as the wound in his leg throbbed. Turning, he froze as his gaze rested on the scarlet clad woman seated beside the remains of his son. Seething, boiling anger rose abruptly, making his uninjured hand clench tightly about the metal handrail of the wagon. Brown eyes, hot with wrath watched as she coldly moved away from the covered corpse. Her stature was ramrod straight, nose lifted in pride. Even in the ruins of her plans...plans thirty years in the making...she clung to her sense of dignity.

He briefly wondered if she had ever loved his son at all, or if Gilberto had been solely the means to an end.

The _señora's_ attention was on the Alcalde as he addressed a royal guardsman who had stepped forward. Alejandro wasn't really paying attention to De Soto's words. Something about how the guardsmen were to leave...he was reassuming command of the garrison.

He heard the order to take the body away. For a moment, his hand clenched tightly about the rail, knuckles turning white. Then the wagon began to move, and he forced himself to release.

Turning to gaze after the body, Inez met Alejandro's gaze.

He had never struck a woman. Never considered violence of any kind toward the fairer sex. Living to the ideals as well as the spirit of being a true gentleman, Alejandro had always sought to protect and serve ladies of all kinds; offering them respect and honor.

Yet staring into her cold, dark eyes, Alejandro knew that he could have gladly killed her. "You stole my son," he said quietly. "and filled him with hatred. I can forgive him. But _you,_ _Señora_," Alejandro paused for a split second, his emotions threatening his calm as he gazed at her. She who stole a child from its mother before Elena had a chance to love him; who set father against son and brother against brother. "_Never._"

Inez Risendo haughtily thrust her nose into the air and slipped past him, following the corpse of the Emissary. She spoke not a word, but the malice in her eyes was unmistakeable.

For what? Why this malice? Why did she desire to destroy him so badly?

He was _tired_. Tired, old and worn out. He didn't have any answers, only questions of his own.

"_Gracias a Dios." _Sergeant Mendoza murmured as he crossed himself. A smile began to shine through his round, honest face, relief making him sigh. "It's over."

The terror and tyranny for the pueblo? Yes. It was over.

Unfortunately for the de la Vegas, something else entirely had begun. Alejandro's eyes traveled to Diego as the tall man gracefully dismounted and handed the reins of his mount to Felipe.

_There was another child..._

"Sergeant," De Soto's voice caught Mendoza's attention before the round lancer could continue. "Report to me in my office, we have much work to do."

"_Si,_ Alcalde." With a hasty salute, the soldier was off.

Alejandro could only appreciate the Alcalde's interruption of his underling's musings. He knew that the pueblo would rejoice in the Emissary's second, more permanent death, but things had changed irrevocably in the past few hours. Lost in his thoughts, the old don tapped his gloves slowly against his left hand.

"Don Alejandro."

De Soto's voice brought Alejandro's head up abruptly, surprised. The Alcalde's familiar features were twisted into an expression that the older man did not readily recognize. Discomfort? Indigestion, perhaps?

"I had no idea he was your son," Ignatio's voice was quiet. Sincere.

Oh. Compassion. No wonder he did not recognize it.

"None of us did," Alejandro replied, shaking his head in bewilderment. Seeing De Soto's distress, an odd warmth curled around the don's heart. The man was genuinely concerned for what he had done...there was hope for De Soto yet. "You also _saved_ a son of mine," he reminded the Alcalde, with a tender look towards Diego. "And that I will _never_ forget."

Never.

"Nor I," Diego concurred. His look of gratitude seemed to make De Soto squirm. The man shifted his weight awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable.

De Soto's gaze traveled towards the church, and a corner of his mouth twisted ruefully. "Well, if you'll excuse me," he muttered, "I have a compelling need to see Padre Benitez."

As he strode away, Alejandro felt his eyebrows raise slightly. Hope indeed. There was much to think about, much to discuss...but another time. Later. Any time but now...

Felipe and Diego drew closer to the elder de la Vega as the Alcalde departed; perhaps sensing his need for support. But there was another approaching too...he hadn't noticed her standing nearby, but he should have guessed that the small woman would hear of the happenings at the _hacienda_.

Victoria's long skirts swayed around her ankles as she moved towards him, for once her stride not the hasty motion of a woman with three dozen people to serve. Dark eyes looked up at him and he was at a loss to describe the exact emotions playing beneath the surface of her pretty face.

"I heard what happened," she said, mostly to Diego. Once more, she looked to Alejandro and her tender eyes struck him a blow to the heart. "I'm so sorry."

So sorry. For the Emissary, a man she had hated. No, not for Gilberto...for _him. _Though she _had _truly hated the King's man, she cared deeply for Alejandro de la Vega, and could see how badly the events of today had shaken him. Alejandro shook his head slowly. "It's hard to...to gain a son and then lose him... all in the same hour."

He never would have had enough time. A lifetime could not have made up for the years that had been stolen from him.

"Gilberto was suckled on vengeance," Diego added. "I wish I had known him as a brother and not as an enemy." The forlorn wistfulness in his tone made Alejandro's heart ache. He was not the only person suffering today.

"Perhaps if he would have had a different life, you could have been proud of him instead, Diego." Victoria mused, her worried gaze drifting back and forth between the two de la Vegas. Alejandro tried to smile for her, but he knew that it must look more like a grimace of pain.

Diego's lighter eyes also traveled back and forth, resting for a moment on Victoria's face, then moving to his father's. The tall man cleared his throat nervously. "There is something I've been ...meaning to tell you all," Diego said quickly "for quite some time. Now would seem an appropriate moment." He said 'you all', and yet his eyes never traveled to Felipe...when he said 'you all', he meant Victoria and Alejandro. Felipe already knew. What did Felipe know that Alejandro and Victoria did not?

Oh.

He tried not to look too expectant, he really did. After all, he was not supposed to know that his son was Zorro.

Diego's eyes finally did move to Felipe's face . "Felipe, with your permission."

Alejandro glanced at the boy quickly and saw the brief moment of panic flicker through them. He knew that Diego wished to reveal his identity.

After years. Finally.

It was something close to poetic justice that he should lose a son, and have one restored to him in the same day.

"I..." Diego's voice faltered, the words catching in his throat. Wide eyes met Alejandro's gaze for a moment, and the old don could see fear in their depths. _Oh son... _He felt compassion for his son, truly. Diego had kept his secret for so long he did not know what reception he would receive upon disclosing it, even to those he considered most dear. Would they be angry? Would they not believe him? Had he played his part too well for his true nature to come to light?

Alejandro could sympathize. He could. This was a day that his son had been waiting for. He probably had not imagined the circumstances quite like this.

Alejandro had been waiting too. Waiting, and watching. Grinding his teeth and fuming at times. Learning to control his volatile and tempestuous nature. He smiled softly at his son, giving a slight nod of encouragement.

"I...am..." Diego tried again, his eyes darting towards the pretty _señorita_ beside him. Her gaze was questioning; guileless. Totally unsuspecting of the truth.

It was in that split second that the old don knew his son would not disclose his secret here. He _knew_.

"...going to adopt Felipe." the words spilled from Diego's lips so quickly they ran together. "He's to be a member of our family."

He _knew_. But the disappointment was no less cruel for all that. He had seen the moment when his son decided against revealing himself. Seen it in the way Victoria suspected nothing. Diego was afraid of her reaction. And...given her penchant for swooning when every false Zorro was unmasked, Alejandro supposed he could not fault Diego for being apprehensive.

Victoria's brilliant smile as she laughed in joy and clapped her hands together brought Alejandro back to the moment at hand. Diego had not delivered the secret he had _hoped_ for, but that did not make his news any less momentous.

"This...is...wonderful news!" The glow of his fierce and fiery nature began to kindle once more as the elder de la Vega turned to Felipe, pulling him into a strong embrace. "This is _wonderful_ news!" It was. He loved Felipe as a son, and he knew that Diego felt the same. The boy had been a member of their family in all but name for so long, it was only fitting and right that he join them in the eyes of the world. "I now have two sons." Alejandro pulled back and looked into Felipe's face. The young man was beaming. Obviously thrilled. They should have done this sooner, Alejandro decided, his smile tender. "The de la Vegas will never be divided," he stated emphatically as he turned back to face his son and Victoria. Felipe wound an arm over his shoulders and squeezed, unconsciously contracting the old don's heart as well. "Never." Alejandro smiled at Victoria, then shifted his gaze to his son, just in time to catch the glance Diego shared with Felipe.

With his arm across Alejandro's shoulders, the former soldier could feel the youth's breath of relief. A quick sigh that would undoubtedly have been missed in the sounds of the street.

And suddenly, he could not stand it. "Diego," Alejandro pointed his gloves at the younger man, shaking them for emphasis. "There's something that's been _gnawing_ inside of me." _For years. It's been gnawing inside of me for years, Diego._

The tall man nodded, seriously, obviously steeling himself. "Father, there is something I've been meaning to tell you for quite some time."

He could not possibly know how much those words meant to his father.

"Felipe, Victoria," the _caballero _nodded graciously to both of them, "if you'll excuse us for a moment." Reaching out, the younger man placed a hand on Alejandro's shoulder as the two of them began to stride out of the hearing of the pretty tavern owner and Felipe.

"Do you remember, when Gilberto was just about to shoot you," Alejandro recounted, keeping his voice low as the two men strode through the dusty plaza towards Victoria's tavern. "He said that he was not only going to kill _you,_ he was going to kill...and then he never finished." The former soldier turned to face his son, pulling away from Diego's hand and bringing both of them to a stop. "What do you suppose he was going to say?" Brown eyes searched his son's handsome face intently. _Tell me, Diego. Please. Trust me. Be the man that I know you are. The curtain is closing, my son. You can take off the mask now. _Compassion for his child squeezed the old don's aching heart. Diego had been through so much. Endured so much ridicule in this pueblo. Sometimes, when Alejandro had seen his son's eyes as they peered through his simple, clumsy mask, they were tormented. Tortured. Frustrated beyond reason.

Diego's jaw flexed at the mention of the Emissary, his eyes hard. "Father, Gilberto was very close to madness, if not actually camped within the boundaries of that colorful land. How can anyone truly know what he meant?"

_Don't do that. You know what he meant. _

Swallowing his disappointment a second time in less than five minutes was harder. Alejandro could feel his own jaw working as he struggled to contain his emotions. "You...you said you had something that you wished to tell me?" He saw the flicker in the blue eyes; the decision being made, the die being cast.

_Don't._

"It's about my talent with the sword, Father." Diego shifted awkwardly. "You see, I've always given people the impression that I have no skill with the blade..."

"Obviously untrue," Alejandro interrupted, recalling the fierce, powerful swordplay he had witnessed.

"Yes." Diego paused once more. Again, there was that flicker...

_My son...please...not now...not today...of all days, please do not lie to me __**now**_.

"You see, Father, I decided that if everyone knew of my talent I would be hounded down by swordsmen who wished to make a name for themselves. I asked Sir Edmund to keep the secret of my skills..."

"Why? Why Diego?" He could not help interrupting again, gaze fierce, words sharpening.

"Because I wished to pursue my own interests," Diego answered calmly, his words flowing smoothly as the corners of his mouth began to turn up.

_No. Anything but the smile. Not now._

"After all, if I was constantly being challenged by young hotheads, I would never have time for poetry and music." With those words, the simple, disarming smile stole over Diego's face, blandly proclaiming him an idiot and a non-entity.

The mask was back in place. The player had taken his position in the wings, ready to begin a new act of the drama.

And for the second time in one day, Alejandro had lost a son. Somehow the loss was even more painful. Diego was never going to trust him enough. He would never tell him his secret. All these months of taming his temper had been for naught.

He couldn't take it.

The control that he had worked so hard to maintain; the calm that he had achieved vanished like mist beneath the blazing noon sun. For the first time in a long while...Alejandro lost his temper.

The old _caballero_ swore, loudly and explosively, despite the women present in the plaza. The foul words echoed and resounded in the sudden and complete silence that descended as every eye turned toward the two de la Vegas in shock.

None were more shocked than his son, he could tell. Hadn't he always told Diego that swear words were for simpletons who could not speak intelligently? They should be saved for moments of extreme duress, when no other words could adequately describe the tumultuous emotions.

The last time he had cursed had been the day Elena died.

Aware of the attention upon them both, Alejandro could not throw his knowledge in his son's face. He could not expose what he knew of the double life Diego led.

Rage roared within him, burning behind his eyes. Beneath his wrath however, ran a deeper, more powerful emotion.

Grief.

Alejandro had never handled grief well. Anger was so much easier.

Reaching out with his uninjured hand, the old don seized Diego's collar and pulled his son forward until their faces were almost touching. "You..." he hissed through his teeth. "Are a _coward_." A coward for being too afraid of the reaction to confide in his own father. For hiding his true nature behind a bumbling and effeminate facade.

He held his son just long enough to see the gaping wounds his words left in the younger _caballero's_ heart. Pain cracked the mask Diego wore, but did not remove it.

With a shove, the don thrust his son away. He could sense the stares that were still on them both. Straightening his spine, the old man strode to Dulcinea's side. Diego had rode her into town, and she had been compliant for once, submitting to a man other than her master.

Seizing her reins, Alejandro pulled himself into the saddle and pointed her nose towards home.

Only after he was out of the pueblo, out of the eye of the citizenry did his words come back to roost over his head, like ugly buzzards.

Releasing the reins, Alejandro buried his face in his hands and allowed Dulcinea to pick her own way home.

_Dios...what have I done_?

0-0-0-0

**Ha! You all thought I was going to resolve things didn't you? Bwa ha! You have to wait for the final chapter. And I swear, that this will not take so long. I will try to have the last chapter up in one weeks time.**

**Once again, I want to thank you all for your patience with me in finishing my story, and for the reviews. I might also add...that I really really love them, and would like more. Please? :)**


	11. Grace My Fears Relieved

**Rather than bore you all, I'm going to put the majority of my author notes at the bottom and just let you all enjoy. No, this is not a cruel joke. I _am_ posting on time...there's a chapter under this brief message. Honest. :) **

0-0-0-0

Night had fallen over the pueblo of Los Angeles. The cry of coyotes rose, lonely in the still air. The stars burned brightly over the sleeping inhabitants of the small town...and those who were not yet retired for the evening.

Lights still burned in the de la Vega _hacienda._

Diego slowly loosened the buttons of his ruffled shirt. Working his right arm out of the sleeve took longer than it should have; the blood-stained material had dried into place. With great care, and tentative peeling, the _caballero_ was able to extract himself from his garment without making blood flow again. Examining his wound, he carelessly allowed the shirt to slide to the floor. Diego briefly considered picking it up, but decided that he just didn't care. Let it lie there. He would get it in the morning. Maybe.

The bandage should probably be changed before he retired for the evening. Perhaps he didn't care about that either.

_You...are a __**coward**_.

A wince wrinkled Diego's handsome face as he slowly sank into one of the chairs in his sitting room. He could still see the anger in his father's eyes. The disappointment in his offspring.

Of course he was disappointed. His son had finally shown himself to be able-bodied and talented, only to smile insipidly and claim he had no interest in such things.

Sometimes...he hated himself. Today was one of those times.

He had the chance! The moment was there! _Why_ hadn't he taken it? ! Placing his elbows on his knees, Diego leaned forward and put his head in his hands with a hollow moan. His father was _right_. He _had_ been a coward. In the moment, when all he had to do was thrust the words from his throat to his lips, he had looked at Victoria and the words fell back the way they had come, nearly choking him. She was so unsuspecting. Curious as to what he would say, but there was no inkling in the slightest of the monumental information he was trying to impart.

He couldn't do it. Not there. Not like that.

When his father had pulled him aside, he had another chance. He wanted to tell the older man. He _yearned_ to tell Alejandro his secret.

A lancer had walked behind the old don at the exact moment Diego opened his mouth. Once more, the words that had been trying to escape turned back and hid themselves away. He couldn't tell his father there...not where someone else might hear...

It was an excuse, he now realized. The lancer had not been listening to their conversation, and was moving quickly. The man would have heard nothing over the sound of his own boots. And yet he had leapt at the opportunity to delay, slipping into his mask with the practiced ease of years. He had smiled at his father. The smile he had perfected for so long. The smile of an idiot...a fop.

And the brown eyes had pierced him down to his soul. For the briefest of seconds he saw real grief break his father's heart into glittering shards.

Before he could react, the older man's temper rose like a knight defending a wounded companion, pressing an attack.

He could still feel his father's hand dragging him forward by the collar of his shirt. Still feel the hot breath of the quiet, but vehement words.

_You...are a __**coward**_**.**

Alejandro had hissed them through his teeth. He had not shouted them for the pueblo to hear. But he had meant them, of that Diego was certain.

Long fingers dug into his thick, dark hair slowly.

And he was right. It had been cowardice that had stilled his tongue.

He wondered, briefly, why his father had called him on his actions today. After all, it wasn't as though the excuse he had given was unlike the character he played. Perhaps with everything that had happened today...it was just too much.

Yes, that was it. The emotional battlefield Alejandro had been forced to walk through had left him wounded, there was no doubt of that.

Straightening into a sitting position, Diego allowed a very small smile to quirk at the corners of his lips. His father had never dealt well with being wounded in a physical sense. It was not out of the realms of possibility that he responded just as badly to emotional harm.

Diego's smile quickly faded as his muscles protested loudly at his movements. Alejandro was not the only one who had suffered injury.

The events of the day were dragging at his bruised and beaten body. Diego felt...old. Far older than his years.

Hurts from the multitude of bruises and small cuts he had sustained in his escape from Diablo's Canyon stung and throbbed until it felt as though he had been beaten with a thick pole. The musket wound wasn't doing much better. His mock battle with Felipe had agitated it, the rock slide had aggravated it...and having a grown man punch his weight into the gaping wound didn't do a lot of good either. He could still feel the impact of the knuckles. Delivered after the mental impact of his identity being revealed, the blow had drawn a cry of unguarded pain from his lips.

He wanted to sleep. To forget the events of the day for a few hours at least.

He wondered if he could. If his mind would allow him to slip away from reality for even a few hours. Unlikely.

Blue eyes blinked heavily at the shirt at his feet. He really should get up and moved towards his bed. Before he did that he should change the bandage circling his bicep. Before he did that, he should call Felipe and they should wash out the numerous scrapes and cuts that decorated his torso.

Before he did that, he should find his father and tell him everything.

He should tell him he was right.

He should tell him that his son was Zorro.

He should tell him how much he had longed to disclose his secret over the years.

He should... he should...he should...

Exhaustion dragged his eyelids closed against his will, and Diego slid into very uncomfortable dreams.

0-0-0-0

Alejandro paced around his study like a caged animal. His steps were quick, agitated, impatient. Round and round he went, booted feet clumping steadily. Brown eyes were practically glowing with wrath. The old don continually darted piercing glances at the door, nearly searing holes through the wood.

He couldn't remember the last time he had been so overcome by his temper. Control was a long lost memory. Alejandro was angry, testy, crotchety and ready to bite the head off of anyone who came near. His fingers twitched and stretched, tightening into fists at his sides. It was all he could do to not start throwing things!

The light tap against his door brought him to a halt in surprise. He did not think that anyone in their right mind would seek to disturb him now...

With a growl, the old don seized the handle and jerked the portal open.

Felipe's wide, worried brown eyes met his own hot glare over a tray of coffee.

"Felipe." Alejandro's voice was tight as he dragged back on the reins of his temper, bringing the skittish colt to a messy, unhappy halt. He might be furious, but he would _not_ take out his wrath on someone who did not deserve it.

The youth glanced down once at the peace offering in his arms then back into Alejandro's face, a tentative smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Without a word, the old don stepped back and gestured for the boy to enter, his hand slashing at the air with unwarranted venom. Felipe stepped forward, but his face fell slightly at the ill grace with which he was welcomed.

_You're doing it again, you nasty old bear. Behave yourself_.

"I am sorry," Alejandro grunted through clenched teeth as Felipe deposited his tray on the desk. "I'm not upset with _you_, Felipe," a rueful and self deprecatory smile twisted his lips bitterly. "I should not snap as though I am." If his tone was still a little curt, he could only hope that it would not carry through the young man's deafness, and he would take the words at their face value.

Was it his imagination, or did Felipe's knuckles turn white on the edge of the tray for a moment? The young man glanced at Alejandro, and the former soldier was surprised to see frustration swimming in the brown depths of his eyes.

Felipe turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. Then, he sighed. A soft, almost soundless breath of air. Yet for someone who made almost no sounds whatsoever, every one that issued from him carried meaning. Squaring his shoulders, Felipe suddenly turned and met Alejandro's gaze with grim determination.

To say the don was surprised would be an understatement. Dark brows shot upwards, rising towards his graying hair.

The youth's hands began to move swiftly through signs and for once, Alejandro had absolutely no difficulty understanding Felipe's meaning. He was interceding on behalf of Diego. He knew that Alejandro had every right to be frustrated, but the older man could not understand the worries that his son carried on a daily basis...

He might have gone on for a very long time if Alejandro had not interrupted.

"You think that I am angry with Diego?" It really was a reasonable assumption based on the last interaction between father and son, but it could not be further from the mark. "Good heavens, no. No, no, No, NO!"

Confusion was written so plainly across Felipe's face, it was almost comical. If Alejandro had been in a temper to find anything remotely amusing.

He wasn't.

Slowly, the slender hands moved once more, spreading wide in bewilderment.

"If not Diego, then who?" Alejandro asked, his voice growing tight once more as he fought to keep his emotions bottled.

Felipe nodded, brows knotted together.

He struggled, but the day had been too long. Too hard.

"ME!" The old don roared, eyes snapping fiercely. "I am angry with _me, _Felipe!" The former soldier resumed pacing once more, hands opening and closing at his sides. "I lost my temper and said cruel things to my son _again_."

Again and again and again. Would it never stop?

Overcome, the old don came to an abrupt halt in the middle of his study and pushed both hands through his graying hair, fighting the temptation to pull it out by the roots. This was _not_ what he wanted! It had to end. Something had to change. Something...

A quick glance out of the corner of his eye told him that Felipe was attempting to slip away and leave him in privacy.

Something had to change.

Turning quickly, Alejandro crossed his study in two steps and caught hold of the youth's left shoulder in a firm grip. Decision made, the don found an odd sense of calm within his storm. "Felipe," he said quietly. "Show me what is hidden in the mantlepiece."

His hand on the boy's shoulder, there was no missing the jolt of surprise that shot through the slender frame, even if Felipe had been able to keep the look of shock from invading his face as he spun back toward Alejandro.

"The mantlepiece," Alejandro repeated clearly, watching as Felipe's jaw dropped. "I know you understand me."

Hands began signing with desperate haste as the young man tried to back away. He was expected by Diego...he had chores that must be attended to...there was something else he must see to immediately...

With all the gentleness he could muster, Alejandro placed his wounded hand on Felipe's other shoulder, holding the slender youth face to face with him. "Felipe," his voice was soft, but earnest. "I know." His hands squeezed the shoulders in reassurance. "Do you understand what I mean, _hijo_?" He could see the dawning light of comprehension in Felipe's expressive face. The don smiled. A little tightly, but a smile, nonetheless. "I _know_."

0-0-0-0

A tap on the door preceded him pushing the portal open and striding into the room, but only by the slimmest of margins. Alejandro was already within his son's sitting room, strong stride carrying him towards the bedchamber when he realized that the tall man was present.

Sound asleep, slouched in a very uncomfortable position in a chair. His head was thrown back in a manner that was sure to give him a stiff neck when he woke; long legs stretched in front of him. His shirt rested on the floor at his feet, allowing Alejandro a full view of his son's torso.

The old don felt his knees weaken slightly and stumbled, almost falling into a chair opposite his son.

Diego stirred slightly at the sound, but he did not wake. The younger man winced even as he stirred and it was not hard to see why.

Alejandro had not given much thought to how his son must have escaped the Emissary's trap that afternoon. In all fairness, there had been a few more pressing concerns on his mind, and Diego had seemed largely uninjured. Apart from his right arm, the tall man had not seemed to sustain any lasting damage, and _that_ wound he had before he left the _hacienda_.

Scrapes, cuts, and contusions decorated Diego with a palette of colors that would have satisfied any artist in the world.

Sprawled in his chair, apparently having dropped there from exhaustion, the younger de la Vega could hardly have presented an image more likely to garner sympathy from his father.

Alejandro sighed deeply. This was a familiar scene. Had it really been over a year ago that he had come to his son's rooms seeking to apologize for his cruel words? It seemed longer. Much, much longer.

The old don leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He had learned a lot in this year, starting with the discovery of his offspring's double life.

He had learned to control the wrath that sometimes drove wedges between himself and the younger man sitting in front of him. To close his eyes to what he knew, and pretend. In a way, he realized, he had been playing a part in Diego's drama too. His mask wasn't as good as his son's. Not nearly as much time had gone into the making of it, and he was frustrated too easily by the scratchy material of his costume, or the foolish lines he was supposed to say. He would never be the actor that his son was. Surely one of the reasons Diego had never told him of the play...nor confided whether they were in a comedy or a tragedy.

Diego himself didn't know that. Also, most likely, one of the reason he had never told his father anything.

Alejandro had learned to live in a constant state of fear for his son. He had learned to swallow the helplessness that rose whenever Zorro rode out. To pretend, like everyone else, that he was absolutely sure that Zorro would never be harmed...because he was Zorro.

When in reality, he was Diego. He wasn't _Zorro_, he was _Diego_! He was Diego de la Vega, and he was Alejandro's _son_.

Diego, who could, very obviously, be injured. And not only by physical means.

_He_ had injured his son. He had lost control of his temper. He had seen the lines of the drama and had thrown the script to the winds. Instead of the frustrated roll of the eyes and the good natured (if disappointed) jibe concerning his son's lack of interest in important manners, he had delivered words of far greater, and more cutting import. He had slashed a hole through his son's defenses. Deliberately.

Alejandro slowly drew an object from his pocket. He was going to throw the script out the window again. He was tired. So tired. Tired of the drama he was continuously forced to act in against his will. He wanted the play to be over. It was time for him to exit the stage. How gracefully he was going to manage that he did not know. Brown eyes dropped to the item in his hands. He had retrieved it from the hideout Felipe had led him to.

Zorro's mask.

For years, this piece of cloth had hidden his son from him.

No...that was not quite true. For years, this piece of cloth had _revealed_ his son to him. He had just been too blind to see the truth. The real mask was the smile he hated so much. That bland, simple expression that hid Diego's nature, making many quick to dismiss him. The Alcalde, the lancers, Victoria...

And himself.

He had been a frustrated and shortsighted fool. Disappointed by the facade, he had not bothered to dig deeper. For years. Years that had separated him from truly knowing his son.

The soft material of the mask caught on the roughness of Alejandro's palms as his hands closed around it tightly, gripping convulsively.

A tear streaked down his creased and weathered cheek. Another swiftly joined it. An another.

Bowing his head, the old don wept.

0-0-0-0

His dreams were troubled. Don Alejandro's face kept swimming before his eyes, the cutting accusation of cowardice burning from his lips. Searing Diego down to his soul. He would open his mouth to refute his father's words...tell him who he really was...but no sound came out.

The blue eyes opened suddenly. He was awake. Sharp senses alerted him immediately to the presence of another in the room. Straightening from his slumped position, he was already scanning his surroundings for anything that could be used as a weapon...

His gaze fell on his father, seated in the chair opposite him.

Alejandro's head was bowed over clasped hands. The old don was weeping. Silently, unwilling to disturb his son, but forcefully.

"Father!" Diego was on his feet in a flash and across the room, his mind consumed with worry. He could not remember ever seeing his father in tears before...not even when his mother had died. Kneeling in front of the older man, Diego reached out to touch his hand. "Father..."

His fingers actually froze in midair.

Eyes widening, the younger de la Vega stared at the black cloth his father grasped tightly. He looked up, mouth open in shock to meet the gaze of Alejandro.

A very pregnant silence filled the space between the _caballeros_.

Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place. Events that had puzzled him for months...behavior that had startled and bemused him...everything made sense.

Time played back inside his head in a colorful collage. The comments his father had made concerning Zorro. The older man's shifting personality...his growing patience for his son... so many little things. Trivial incidents that all pointed to one truth.

His father _knew_. His father _had_ known. And he had been waiting for Diego to tell him.

A wince twisted the younger man's face as his heart contracted. He looked up into the creased and lined face and wondered with a pang just how many of those wrinkles were owed to _him_. He had, of course, reasons for his actions. Explanations. A plethora of excuses and sound logic that he had prepared for this moment. Hadn't he, after all, been thinking of it almost since the inception of Zorro?

Only three words managed to escape as he met his father's gaze steadily.

"I am sorry."

Alejandro did not respond immediately, his eyes never leaving his son's face.

"I'm sorry, Father," Diego repeated. "I should have told you long ago." Seeing the pain in his father's face and the tears on his cheeks made the younger de la Vega writhe inwardly. He should have told him. He should have.

"All this time," Alejandro murmured softly, his voice husky. "Diego, it has been _years_."

"No one has been more aware of the time than I have, Father." Diego's voice was quiet. Firm. More like Zorro's than the poet.

"Did you really trust me so little?" The brokenness of Alejandro's voice shocked his son further. Blue eyes wide, he stared up into his father's face in horror.

"I trust no one so much as you!" The cry was vehement. Heartfelt. "Father...I could not..." Frustration overwhelmed him and he bowed his head. "I could not afford to have you harmed." Dark brows drew together in consternation as he looked up once more. "You are already targeted by those who despise me because you support Zorro. Can you imagine how much worse it would be if someone honestly thought that you _knew_ who Zorro was?"

He saw the flash in the brown eyes and cringed inwardly. Here was another reason he had never told his father his secret. He had always suspected that his father would react...badly...should he suspect that the reason for his son's silence was the younger man's desire to protect him.

0-0-0-0

Alejandro felt his temper rise swiftly. That _he _should need protection from his _son! _He was the protector of his family! As it should be! He...!

The old don literally bit his tongue before harsh words could escape and forced himself to take a deep breath.

He...was not the young soldier that he had been. He was an old man now, and his son had grown strong. The old don could feel his gaze slowly cooling from wrathful to wry. Not only had he aged, but he was a fool who had constantly embroiled himself in arguments with the powers who controlled the pueblo.

Alejandro took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Thank you, son," he said quietly. "For your concern."

The surprise in Diego's face was really almost comical. Obviously, he had expected his father to fly into a temper and roar and rage. Any touch of humor vanished, though, when the younger man's face twisted as he looked into his father's eyes. "You were right, however. This afternoon." One of Diego's large hands closed into a fist as his dark brows drew together. "I had a chance to tell you...I _meant_ to..." the blue eyes broke away from Alejandro's gaze and fastened onto the floor. "It was cowardice that kept me silent. I...Father, I am sorry!"

His son. Oh, his son.

Alejandro reached out impulsively and put a hand on his son's dark head, stroking the thick hair. "No, Diego. _I_ am sorry. I said very cruel things." When Diego looked up, Alejandro met his eyes steadily, hoping that the younger man could read his sincerity. "I am sorry, Son."

Diego smiled, tentatively...slowly...but it was a real smile. A smile of daring and courage. Zorro's smile.

Alejandro's smile.

One of Diego's eyebrows quirked inquisitively. "You've known...since Felipe was nearly killed by those outlaws, am I right?"

A rueful grin tipped the old don's mouth. "Indeed. I came to apologize for my words, and you were already asleep." A finger tapped Diego's forearm. "I saw the scars." He caught Diego's wrist and held up the large palm. "Also, you have some curious callous patterns for a man who dislikes swordplay." Alejandro shook his head. "I was angry for a long time."

Diego nodded, obviously recalling the mercurial shifting of his father's temperament throughout the following weeks. "I remember." The younger man glanced at the mask still in his father's hand and his gaze narrowed. "When did you discover Zorro's cave?"

The grin widened. "I made Felipe show me tonight. Very impressive, Son." Mischief twinkled in the brown eyes as he gazed down at his son. "I had completely forgotten that room was there. And it really is amazing what you have done with the space. Although..." teeth flashed in a wicked smile. "It does seem that _someone_ has been throwing beakers against the wall." A chuckle escaped him at the sheepish look that passed over Diego's face.

"The wall had it coming," the tall man muttered.

"Really, Diego," Alejandro said calmly, "A bad temper must be controlled."

The indignant expression that plastered itself over his son's features was absolutely priceless. Alejandro laughed until his sides ached. Until Diego joined him in his mirth.

Leaning forward, the old don wrapped his arms around his son's broad shoulders and embraced him, feeling Diego's strong arms about him. Thanking the Grace that had delivered his son back to him. His son. Oh his son.

He had his son back.

Amazing.

**The End**

**0-0-0-0**

**That's all she wrote, folks! Not quite...I still have a couple notes. Okay, first of all, thank you everyone who reviewed anonymously, I loved receiving your feedback.**

**Secondly, I am very very touched by the condolences I received for my loss. I can't tell you how much that meant to me. :)**

**Thirdly, this story has been a wonderful writing experience, and this fandom rocks. I had a blast writing this story, and I look forward to writing another Zorro fic. There are definitely enough plot bunnies copulating in my brain... Hope to see you all again when I do!**

**Fourth and lastly, can we have a round of standing applause for my miraculously WONDERFUL beta? Honest, folks, my darling sibling beta is the only reason my stories get out at all. Some might look on it as nagging, but she makes sure that I don't slack off too much, and my writing is much more cohesive and grammatically correct because of all her hard work. :)**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you all.**

**See you soon!**


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